


Poisoned

by leopardchic79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leopardchic79/pseuds/leopardchic79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian Jones (a.k.a. Hook), private investigator, comes across Peter while searching for a missing person.  He gets a lot more than he bargained for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hello, Killian.” 

The silky-smooth voice made him jump and he turned around quickly to find Peter standing in front of the open window. He could’ve sworn he had closed it earlier. Heart beating rapidly, he took a deep breath and eyed Peter warily. 

This was the second time Peter had shown up in his apartment via the fire escape. Hook still wasn’t sure how he was managing it seeing as said fire escape was rickety at best and likely to fall down at worst. He was pretty positive that no one would manage to use it to actually escape a fire if they needed to. But Peter hadn’t seemed to have any trouble. Maybe he had just flown up to Hook’s open window. The idea made Hook smirk a little and shake his head. The boy was definitely strange and mysterious, but Hook was pretty sure he didn’t possess any supernatural powers. 

“How did you manage to climb up here without collapsing the entire fire-escape?” Hook decided to ask. 

Peter shrugged. “It’s not really that difficult.” 

“You know what’s even easier? The front door.” 

Peter smirked and took a few steps closer. “Are you sure? Your neighbors might wonder why a teenager is showing up at your apartment this late in the evening.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, eyes glittering with amusement. 

Hook rolled his eyes and turned away to sit down on the couch. “My neighbors tend to mind their own business…if you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly the best part of town.” His neighbors might not care, but Hook wished _he_ knew why a teenager kept showing up at his apartment. A teenager with the strange ability to leave him feeling twisted around and uneasy. 

Predictably, Peter sat down next to him, tucking a leg underneath him and pulling the other in to his chest. He wasn’t exactly pressed against Hook but he was only inches away and definitely close enough to touch. It was unnerving just how much Hook found himself wanting to do that. 

“Is there a reason you came to see me again?” he asked after a few moments. Peter was still too close and still eyeing him with a smirk that seemed to hide so many things. 

“You said I could call you whenever. I don’t have a cell phone so I thought visiting would be easier.” 

“I said you could call whenever if you thought of any helpful information on our missing person. I don’t recall telling you it was okay to drop by unannounced at odd hours of the night,” he answered. “And what teenager doesn’t have a cell phone?” he added, slightly exasperated. 

“Homeless ones,” Peter answered sharply, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. 

Hook winced and cursed Peter’s ability to make him feel so guilty so easily. He had no trouble believing that Peter was, _technically_ , homeless…he was skinny and slightly unkempt and sometimes had this look in his eye that was hungry and menacing and desperate. But Hook knew there was more to the story. He was smart and wily and able to twist situations to his advantage. Hook knew that if Peter needed a cell phone, he would have a cell phone. Which meant he was probably just lying and whatever game he was playing with Hook now had to have a purpose. It still didn’t stop him from feeling guilty. 

“Sorry.” 

The dangerous look was gone in an instant, replaced by an indifferent shrug and another smirk – softer this time, but only for a moment. “Have you found your missing person yet? What was his name? John? Joe?” 

“Adam.” 

“Close enough.” 

Hook shook his head. He wondered, not for the first time, if Peter’s slightly-amused indifference was because he could care less that someone had gone missing or because he was hiding something. Maybe it was both. “No, we haven’t found him.” 

Peter shrugged and leaned a little closer, shoulder brushing against Hook’s as he settled back against the couch. 

“So shouldn’t you be out looking for what’s-his-name instead of staying in, drinking the night away?” Peter asked, nodding towards his empty glass on the coffee table. 

Hook turned to face him with an annoyed stare. “It’s Saturday night. I’m a P.I., not the police.” 

“But you used to be. The police that is.” 

Hook frowned and looked at him steadily, wondering, not for the first time, just exactly who Peter was. “How did you know that?” 

Peter shrugged. “I have my ways.” 

“Really?” Hook scoffed. 

Peter smiled, a grin full of teeth, and shifted a little, getting closer still. He walked his fingers up Hook’s arm and across his shoulder. Hook wanted to swat his hand away, but he found that he couldn’t move. He held his breath instead and met Peter’s mischievous gaze. 

“So how did you get the nickname?” 

“What?” Peter’s proximity was invading his senses. The warm weight against his side, the cool scent of him, the look of promise in his eyes. It was entirely too tempting… 

“Hook,” he said softly, pronouncing it slowly. He smirked when he noticed Hook’s eyes lingering on his mouth. “How did you get the nickname?” 

Hook shook his head and forced himself to look away from Peter. “From my brother,” he answered softly. The memory was a good one, but still painful because he still missed Liam more than he could say. “It’s a long story.” He didn’t say anything else and was surprised when Peter didn’t press him for further details. When he looked at the teen again he found a thoughtful, curious look replacing his usual smirk. Hook decided that it was his turn to ask a question, because looking too long at those gray-green eyes seemed to be dangerous. 

“How did you become a seemingly self-sufficient homeless teenager? What happened to your parents?” 

Something dark passed through Peter’s eyes, but only for a brief moment. “It’s a long story,” Peter replied. 

Hook rolled his eyes. “That’s hardly an answer.” 

“Neither was yours,” Peter snapped back. 

Hook sighed and gave him a half-smile. He wanted to press further because he was undeniably curious – and wary – about Peter, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue with him right now. “Do you want something to eat? I don’t have much here, but I can call for takeout.” 

“I don’t need your charity,” Peter answered. There wasn’t any heat behind his words, more just a calm statement of fact. “But it _is_ awfully cold outside tonight.” 

Hook knew it was a bad idea to allow Peter to stay – he should’ve told him to go already – but the thought of turning him out into the winter cold pricked highly at his conscience. Still, he hesitated just a little longer, shamefully worried about the tempting picture Peter tended to paint. 

“I can pay you,” Peter murmured, fingers once again moving slowly over his shoulder. 

Hook raised an eyebrow. “Can you now? With the unlimited funds that left you out on the streets initially?” 

Peter simply shook his head, a dangerous, alluring glint in his eyes. “No, with this.” He moved swiftly, leaning in without hesitation and pressing his lips to Hook’s. 

Caught off guard, Hook froze. Peter slipped his fingers to the side of his neck and put a little more pressure into the kiss. Within seconds, Hook’s mind was completely blank, focused on nothing other than Peter’s mouth against his own. And before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand to gently grip the back of his neck and returned the kiss. 

Peter’s lips were soft and warm and Hook shivered against him. He deepened the kiss slightly, tongue touching Peter’s bottom lip, sighing warmly at the way he tasted. Peter opened his mouth eagerly, and when Hook pushed his tongue into his mouth he couldn’t help moaning softly. Peter’s mouth was all sweet, wet heat and instantly addicting. It made Hook’s head spin and his body temperature rise. 

It took him longer than he would have liked, but eventually he pulled back from the kiss, breath shallow, as he met Peter’s slightly-hooded eyes. He gripped both of his shoulders and held him away from him. “Stop,” he said, voice trembling a little. “We shouldn’t…I can’t do this.” 

Peter didn’t look away, his eyes still shining with mischief. He didn’t look wounded just a little…disappointed. He tried leaning in closer again, but Hook kept a firm grip on him. Peter sighed and pouted. “You’re no fun.” 

Hook swallowed hard, eyes inevitably drawn back to Peter’s now swollen lips, and he couldn’t help the stab of arousal he still felt. He was unnerved by how badly he wanted to lean in and kiss Peter again and again. 

“I suppose you want me to leave now too?” Peter asked. 

Hook stared at him for a few more moments and then shook his head. “No, you can stay.” He stood up abruptly. “I’ll get you some blankets…you can sleep on the couch.” 

Peter didn’t say another word but he watched him steadily, and Hook could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of his head whenever he turned away. Quickly, he grabbed a few blankets from the closet and set them on the couch next to where Peter was sitting. He met his eyes briefly and felt his cheeks heat up, still ashamed by what he’d let happen. 

“You can stay the night. The bathroom is just down the hall.” He forced himself to step away, turning towards his own bedroom and trying to catch his breath. He turned back to look at Peter again before he walked down the hall. “Peter, we can’t…this can’t happen again. Understood?” 

Peter stared at him steadily for a few minutes, eyes full of things Hook didn’t understand and couldn’t figure out. Eventually he smirked and unfolded one of the blankets. “Whatever you say, Killian.” 

Hook escaped to his bedroom after that, closing the door and leaning against it heavily. He touched his fingers to his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for what he’d let happen. And for the fact that, underneath it all, he wanted it to happen again. 

The next morning he found the blankets tangled at the end of the couch, and an empty cereal bowl on the counter. Peter had spent the night, but he was gone now. Hook couldn’t help wonder when – and if – he’d be back. 


	2. Chapter 2

He sat down heavily on the stool in front of the counter and rubbed his hands over his face. His eyes were drawn back to the empty bowl and he swallowed hard, wondering if it was too early to start drinking. He hadn’t slept well. A part of him had been too afraid to fall too deeply asleep, terrified that he’d wake up to find Peter in bed with him….and that he wouldn’t push him away. But mainly he’d just replayed the kiss over and over again in his mind, feeling both guilty for letting it happen and guiltier for enjoying it. 

He thought back to a mere three weeks earlier when he’d laid eyes on Peter for the first time. He wished that he would’ve known how quickly and succinctly the teen would work his way under his skin. Maybe he would’ve turned around. 

~*~*~ 

Adam’s brother didn’t want the police involved. His brother was a good person, but there had been some minor incidents in the past that hadn’t turned out in the best way. It was best if they went about searching for him without the cops. And no, Adam’s brother didn’t want to elaborate on his past brushes with the law. It didn’t matter to Hook either way. David, of course, made sure to stress to Adam that if they found him breaking the law – or dead – they’d be required to inform the cops. David was always sure to stress the legalities – and moralities – of what they could or couldn’t do. 

He had been missing for about two days. They asked the usual questions – did he owe someone money, did he have a girlfriend his wife didn’t know about, did he have any enemies. But his brother was positive that it was none of that and that his brother was in some sort of trouble. 

He worked near the marina and that was the last place he’d been seen so they started there. It was a welcome change of scenery for Hook. He felt comfortable on and around the water, even though it tended to bring on memories of Liam which were still painful. 

That was where he met Peter. 

He was coming out of a gas station with another teen, and when Hook noticed that they walked away rather than get into a car, he caught up with them, figuring they might live or go to school nearby. It was a long shot as teenagers tended to be oblivious to anything around them, but on second glance, the two boys looked different than normal teenagers on their way from school – or cutting class. Hook was observant; that was one of the things that had made him a good cop, and continued to make him a good investigator. 

The two teens were dressed in second-hand clothes, and were slightly unkempt, but not so much that a normal passerby would notice. There was a sharp look in their eyes and they seemed to be completely at home crossing the street in what was a pretty industrial neighborhood. These weren’t kids roaming friendly suburban streets. They might have homes somewhere nearby, but Hook was betting they were probably homeless. More than the city would ever like to admit, there were an unfortunate number of kids without homes or families that managed to stay out of the foster home system. Whether that was a better alternative or not was up for debate. 

He stopped them with a casual smile and held up Adam’s photo. “Have either of you seen this man?” 

The taller one with longer, blonde hair was instantly on alert, eyes hardening as he gave Hook a stony look. He didn’t answer. 

The other one though…he smirked at Hook – no trace of wariness in his eyes – and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes were startlingly attractive…a muted mix of gray and green that sparkled dangerously. “Maybe,” he answered. “But it’s hard to be sure. He’s not very memorable upon first glance.” He paused and raked his eyes up and down Hook’s body. “Unlike yourself.” 

He did his best to hide a quick flash of surprise at the teen’s words and gave him another smile instead, slightly flirtatious, figuring it would be easy enough to play along. He also produced a twenty dollar bill that he figured might go a ways in getting him an answer. He ignored the quick tug of attraction that he felt, slightly unnerved by it. 

The teen’s smirk brightened, but he glanced at his friend – still silent and wary – who took the money from Hook’s outstretched hand. “We’ve seen him around at the gas station now and then.” 

“Did you see him two days ago?” 

The teen shrugged and cocked his head to the side. “Are you a cop? Is he in trouble?” 

Hook shook his head. “I’m not a cop. And I don’t know…he’s missing.” 

The teen’s eyes flashed curiously and he shook his head. “Sorry to hear that. But no, I didn’t see him then. Felix?” 

The blonde flashed him a quick but angry look – which led Hook to believe Felix was his real name – and then shook his head. “Nope.” 

Hook didn’t completely trust either of them – especially not the one with the gray-green eyes – but he didn’t really believe they were involved with Adam’s disappearance. As far as he could tell, Adam wasn’t mixed up in anything that involved homeless or nearly-homeless children. They were simply cocky, streetwise kids who knew how to work a situation to their advantage. Especially when it resulted in a monetary gain. 

He pulled a card from his pocket anyway and gave it to the teen. “If you do remember seeing anything, give me a call whenever. Okay?” 

The teen took the card from his hand, fingers brushing against Hook’s for just a second. He ran his fingers over the paper, eyes flashing with something hungry as he read over the name. When he looked up again, his smirk was brighter and he raised an eyebrow. 

“Peter.” 

Hook looked at him curiously. “What?” 

“That’s my name. Thanks for the card, Killian. If I think of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He winked at him and pushed the card into his back pocket before turning around with Felix and walking away. 

Killian’s breath was a little shaky when he exhaled, and he turned away slowly to look for David. He doubted he’d be seeing Peter or Felix again. 

But it was two days later when he came into his and David’s small, shared office around eleven and found the teen waiting for him in his office. He was sitting in Hook’s chair with his feet propped up on the desk, arms crossed over his chest and that same smirk on his face. 

“Hello, Killian.” 

Hook stared at him for a few moments without saying anything, eyes drawn immediately to Peter’s face and those entrancing eyes. He wondered briefly if David had seen him come in, but then remembered that it was nearly lunchtime and David was probably meeting his wife. Hook hadn’t had the best night and had only woken up about an hour ago. 

“Did you break in?” 

Peter grinned. “It was open.” 

Hook narrowed his eyes and took his jacket off. “And you locked the door behind you then? Because I unlocked it just now.” 

Peter’s grin only widened, showing a flash of teeth. He shrugged and didn’t answer further. “Seems a bit late to just be getting to work. I think I saw your partner leaving for lunch when I walked in. Late night?” 

The teen was overly perceptive, Hook noted. He didn’t miss the note of eager derision in his voice either. Hook knew this game though; Peter was looking for things he could use against him. It was a little unnerving for someone so young to be so good at it. 

“Not really any of your business, now is it?” 

Peter shrugged again, his eyes darkening with something dangerous and strangely alluring. “It could be. If you’d like.” He uncrossed his arms and let his hands slip a little lower to his stomach, eyes still locked on Hook’s face. 

Hook felt his cheeks heat up slightly and he turned away quickly to avoid Peter’s knowing smirk. The boy was far more tempting than he should be, and Hook felt guilty for thinking of him – even for a moment – in a way that he absolutely knew he shouldn’t. 

“What can I do for you, Peter?” he asked finally, hoping his voice sounded stronger than he felt. “Did you remember something about Adam?” 

He turned around when he heard Peter stand up, watching him carefully. Peter moved a bit like a predator, slipping gracefully around his desk to stand in front of him. He leaned back against the desk, palms against the wooden surface and slid his foot out just a little so it brushed against Hook’s own shoe. 

“Peter?” 

“Hmm?” He looked at him through upturned eyes and smirked again. 

Hook swallowed hard and forced himself not to pull his foot back. “Did you think of something else involving Adam?” 

“Who?” 

Exasperated, Hook glared at him. “Our missing person.” 

Peter stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments and then shook his head with a grin. “Nope.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

The door to the office creaked open and Peter pushed up off the desk to lean in closer towards him. “I wanted to see you again,” he said slowly, voice low and entirely too tempting. Hook couldn’t help but glance at Peter’s mouth…an action which spread a triumphant grin over his lips. 

“Hook?” 

He stepped back quickly at the sound of David’s voice, feeling shaken and embarrassed. He cleared his throat and ran a hand over his head, drawing in a cleansing breath and turning away from Peter to face his partner. 

“Hey, David…this is Peter. He’s one of the uh, kids I talked to the other day about Adam.” 

David gave him a quick, curious look, but he turned his attention to Peter after that. “Do you remember seeing him the day he went missing? Was anyone with him?” 

Peter shrugged. “I didn’t see him. That’s not why I’m here. Sorry I’m not more help,” he answered in an overly polite voice. His eyes never left Hook’s and there was a bright sort of mischief there that had Hook worried. 

The atmosphere in the room was quickly becoming thicker and more awkward by the second, and Hook simply wanted Peter gone. He hated how uncomfortable the boy made him feel; he certainly didn’t want to examine why that was. 

Peter waited a few more seconds before giving Hook another smirk, eyes full of heat. “I should be going, but if I think of anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.” He slipped into the green jacket and threw one more intense glance Hook’s way. He made sure to brush against him as he slipped out of the room and left. 

Hook let out a long, shaky breath and turned quickly to avoid David’s eyes. 

“What was that all about?” David asked curiously. 

He busied himself with pretending to look for something on his desk. “No idea. That kid is a little unbalanced. I think he might be homeless, and he said he’s seen Adam around before, but not on the day he went missing. I believe him, I just think he’s playing games. I gave him and his friend some money the other day so he’s probably looking for more and--” 

“Killian,” David interrupted his rambling softly. 

Hook took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. He had no idea why he was suddenly so anxious, but he forced himself to look up and meet David’s eyes. 

“I don’t know what that kid’s angle is, but he uh, seems to have latched his attention onto you.” 

Hook forced a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

David rolled his eyes. “Really? He was doing a pretty good job of raking his eyes over you.” 

“He’s a teenager!” 

David nodded. “I know. But I know you can see it. Not just the flirting, but the street smarts and the…cunning. I only saw him for a few minutes and it was obvious. Be careful, Killian. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“I think I can handle a kid, David.” 

David didn’t say anything else, but he gave him one more look of concern before nodding and turning away. Hook took another deep breath and then opened his bottom desk drawer as David walked out of the room. He grabbed the flask of rum he kept there and took a quick swallow to calm his nerves. 

He tried to put Peter out of his mind and hoped that today would be the last time he’d see the teen. 

But three days later, Peter showed up at his apartment for the first time – perched on the fire escape with a smirk – and Hook’s dread only grew. 

~*~*~ 

He dragged a hand over his face and stared at the couch for a while, unable to help thinking of Peter again. He couldn’t say that the kiss had been entirely unexpected. Not with the way Peter had flirted with him since they’d met or with the looks he gave him. David had warned him to be careful, and he should’ve done exactly that. He never should have let the boy into his apartment. 

He made a new resolve to tell Peter no next time. Firmly. Until he got the message. He couldn’t visit him at his apartment anymore – via the fire escape _or_ the front door. And he could only come to see him at work if he had some genuine information that pertained to the case. He’d tell David that Peter was a nuisance and to be wary if he came offering help. 

He _wouldn’t_ tell David about the kiss. 

And he’d stop replaying it in his head. 

He would put Peter out of his mind. Immediately. And completely. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the comments/kudos! Hope you enjoy this chapter...I sure enjoyed writing it! ;)

Hook slouched low on the couch, head back against the cushions, sprawled out and boneless. He’d been drunk for hours but he still had a nearly-empty bottle of rum in his hand. Peter’s face swam before him, eyes dark, lips curled up in that all-too-tempting smirk. He plucked the bottle from Hook’s loose grasp and brought it to his lips for a swig. 

“Been drinking this all night, Killian?” 

“What’s it to you?” he slurred. 

Peter shrugged and took another sip. He leaned over Hook, one hand on the back of the couch, the other setting the bottle down on the end table. He brushed his fingers over Hook’s face and then around the back of his neck, palm against his skin, fingers in his hair. He leaned in closer and brushed his lips over Hook’s chin, cheek and the corner of his mouth, teasing and making Hook _want_. 

“Leave me alone, Peter…this isn’t…isn’t a good night.” 

“Mmm, I know,” Peter murmured. “I don’t think your big brother would want you to drink like this, would he?” 

His words made Hook frown, wondering how Peter knew that tonight’s drinking was about Liam. But his thoughts were too jumbled – and soaked in rum – to make much sense. “Just…go.” 

He needed Peter to go. His defenses were way too low right now and he was afraid of what he might let happen. Peter was nothing if not good at preying on weaknesses. Not for the first time, Hook found himself wondering what had happened to Peter to make him this way. How was an eighteen year old so very good at such cruel manipulation? 

“I wouldn’t want you to be alone tonight,” Peter said softly against Hook’s ear. His voice sounded like honey…and strangely genuine, but maybe that was just Hook’s imagination. “And I think you could use the distraction.” 

He shook his head, reaching out with the intention to push Peter away, but he was drunk and uncoordinated and when his hand closed on Peter’s upper arm, Peter leaned in and pressed their lips together. 

Peter was in his lap before he could even think to push him away. Ever since that first kiss, Hook had been desperately trying to keep Peter at arm’s length. The flirting was easy enough to ignore, but Peter was more than a flirt. He was manipulative and knew how to seize upon any weakness – no matter how small – and use it to his advantage. 

More and more he’d been pushing Hook’s boundaries. Seemingly innocent touches here and there, words murmured close to his ear. And so far Hook had resisted his kisses – since the first one – but he’d be lying if he said he’d never fantasized, never _wanted_. Peter was so very tempting. It made him feel guilty and ashamed on so many levels, but there was no denying it. 

And right now, tonight, when his thoughts had only been on Liam and how far he’d fallen since his death, Hook wanted so desperately to forget. And Peter knew that. Still, as much as he craved the distraction, he wanted so badly to resist. Because there was no coming back from this and he didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself. 

He broke away from the kiss and gripped firmly to Peter’s upper arms, pushing him away slightly. “I told you no, Peter.” His words would’ve sounded more convincing had his voice not been so low and husky. Peter smirked and shook off his grasp, leaning in closer and slipping both hands around the back of Hook’s neck. 

“You always tell me no. But I don’t think you mean it.” 

He kissed him again and Hook didn’t push him away. His defenses were down…he was drunk and sad and full of regret. Peter was nothing if not good at sensing that…and capitalizing on it. And despite everything, Hook _wanted_ to give in. 

Peter kissed his jaw line, his chin and down his throat, all soft lips and a hot mouth. “Let me make you forget, Killian,” he breathed warmly against his ear. He scraped his nails across his scalp and Hook dragged his bottom lip through his teeth at the sensation. He dropped his head back and gave Peter better access to his neck. 

He wouldn’t let this go too far, but Peter was clouding his every thought and when he kissed his way back to his mouth, Hook didn’t resist. Peter crushed their lips together again and Hook wrapped a hand around the back of Peter’s neck. Peter smiled triumphantly against his mouth and kissed him deeply. 

And _god_ , his mouth was so sweet. Hook wrapped his other arm around him, hand pressing into the small of his back as he tugged him closer. 

There was a voice in the back of his mind warning him to stop, _begging_ him to stop, but it was becoming more and more muted. He slid both hands into Peter’s soft hair and deepened their kiss, tongue intent on tasting as much of his soft, lush mouth as he could. And Peter melted into his kiss with a soft gasp, hands gripping tightly to his shoulders and pulling him closer. 

When they broke apart many long minutes later they were both panting to catch their breath. Hook knew he had to stop this, but Peter was warm and willing in his lap, his eyes bright, his mouth bruised and swollen from their kisses. He swallowed hard and wished that he hadn’t drunk as much as he had. It was making it that much harder to resist. 

Peter leaned in closer to kiss him again, nipping lightly at his bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, and this time when he wrapped his arms around his back, his hands slipped underneath his shirt and found skin. Hook groaned at the feel of his palms on his back and wrapped his arms tightly around Peter, pulling him closer and forcing their hips together. 

Peter drew back from the kiss with a grin and another nibble at his lower lip. “I knew you wanted me,” he drawled slowly, voice lower than usual. 

And he did…so very much. He had since the first time Peter had kissed him, maybe even before that. And he had tried so hard to resist it, resist _him_ , and he just didn’t want to anymore. He knew he could try and blame it on the rum, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. Yes, he might have been better able to push Peter away now if he hadn’t drunk so much before, but he couldn’t blame all of this on alcohol. He wanted Peter. The alcohol was just making it easier to say yes. 

He kissed Peter again, slowly, deeply, exploring every inch of his mouth, drunk now on the taste of him in addition to the alcohol. Peter’s fingers trembled a little bit against his back and, for the first time, Hook felt a slight semblance of control. He didn’t expect it to last. When he finally pulled back, he was gasping for breath again. Peter was flushed now, lips still reddened, still swollen and wet; and Hook who had been half-hard since Peter had slithered into his lap was now that much more aroused and desperate for Peter to be closer. 

Peter broke away from the kiss with a satisfied smirk, grinding down against Hook’s lap, fingers digging into the skin of his back. Hook pushed his hands up under Peter’s shirt, desperate to feel skin. He bit the teen’s lower lip and then his chin, dragging his lips across his throat, sucking and nipping and tasting his skin. He tasted sweet and warm and tempting. 

When he bit down on the skin over his collarbone, Peter dug his fingers into his back again and gasped a little. “You can mark me…anywhere you want,” he breathed against Hook’s ear. 

Hook growled and did exactly that. He wanted Peter’s skin to be bruised the next day. Peter tugged hard on his hair and pulled his head back, meeting his eyes again. His green-gray eyes were filled with a dark, shiny desire and it only served to send even more blood rushing to Hook’s groin. He thrust upwards against Peter’s hips, hands on his thighs, pulling him hard against him. It wasn’t nearly enough. 

Peter kissed him again, tongue sweeping over the roof of his mouth and making Hook groan. He pulled away with a smirk and slipped his hand between them, fingers deftly undoing his jeans and slipping inside his boxers. Hook squeezed his eyes shut and moaned as Peter closed his fingers around him. 

“Is this what you want, Killian?” Peter whispered, mouth open against his neck and ear. He stroked him slowly, deftly, fingers so hot and perfect against his sensitive skin. “I’ll give you anything you want,” he promised. 

Hook grabbed the back of his neck again and kissed him deeply, his head swimming with want and need and the frantic desire to have Peter closer. As Peter pulled away, Hook dragged his thumb over Peter’s bottom lip, body shuddering with pleasure as Peter swiped his tongue over it. Before he could say a word, Peter drew the tip of his thumb between his lips and sucked gently, tongue hot and wet. 

“Peter…” he breathed, knowing he must sound positively desperate. He couldn’t look away from where Peter was sucking on his thumb, eyes locked on his mouth, all the while still thrusting against his hand, wanting more. 

Peter pressed another kiss to his mouth, surprisingly soft, and then drew away. “I know what you want, Killian,” he whispered. He drew back from him, making Hook whine a little at the loss of the teen in his lap. Peter grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it on the floor between Hook’s feet and dropped to his knees. He put his hands behind Hook’s knees and tugged him lower on the couch, before reaching up to fully unzip his jeans and pull them down slightly. He gave Hook a look that was pure sin and that same smirk he wore ninety-nine percent of the time. 

Hook felt a brief stab of conscience. “Peter…you don’t have to…” 

Peter’s smirk doubled and he raised an eyebrow in doubt. He slid both hands to Hook’s boxers and pulled them down slightly along with his jeans. Without any preamble he leaned forward and closed his mouth over the tip of his cock. 

Hook dropped his head back against the couch and squeezed his eyes shut, muttering curses and gasping for breath at the feel of Peter’s mouth. 

Peter licked a stripe up the underside of his cock & then looked up at him with a smirk. 

“Still want me to stop?” 

Hook shook his head and drew in a sharp breath. “No...god, no…” His voice was low and desperate and Peter flashed him another quick grin before closing his mouth over him again. 

Peter’s mouth was hot and wet and absolutely perfect. Hook couldn’t remember ever feeling so flush with pleasure, and for the moment all thoughts of why this was so very wrong fled his mind. All he knew was that he wanted _more, more, more_. 

Peter took him deeper and Hook groaned, hand slipping into Peter’s hair, fingers light against his scalp. Hook could tell that Peter wasn't exactly overly experienced with giving blow jobs – and the thought had him feeling guilty again but only for a moment. But it didn’t matter because it was perfect anyway...sinful and forbidden and hot. 

Just a glance at Peter – red lips stretched around his skin, upturned eyes looking at him with heat – was enough to push him closer to the edge. And when he tugged on Peter’s hair the teen drew him deep enough to hit the back of his throat. 

“Fuck…” he hissed. He dropped his head back against the couch and moaned, body swimming with how good Peter’s mouth felt on him. He let his hand fall away from Peter’s hair for a moment, but the teen was quick to grab it and put it back on his head. Hook met his eyes and bit down on his lower lip as he tugged on Peter’s hair again, shuddering with pleasure at the way Peter’s eyes darkened. 

It didn’t take much more after that, as strung out on pleasure and Peter as he was. Peter closed his fingers around the base of his cock, stroking what he couldn’t reach with his mouth, other hand digging deeply into Hook’s hip. Hook kept a tight grip on Peter’s hair, guiding and keeping him close, though he was careful not to thrust up into his mouth…no matter how much he wanted to. Although, he had a horrible feeling that Peter wouldn’t mind if he did. 

Peter took him deep a few more times and hummed, looking up at him with upturned eyes full of sin and lust and triumph. It was that look that sent Hook over the edge, fingers tangling tightly in Peter’s hair as he moaned in pleasure and came in his mouth. 

Breathing heavily, Hook opened his eyes slowly, body still humming with pleasure. He met Peter’s eyes, unable to look away from his steady, heated gaze. Peter made a show of swallowing and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. Had Hook not been so already sated with pleasure he would’ve probably been hard again from the look in Peter’s eyes and the accompanying smirk. Peter might not be overly experienced but he knew exactly what he was doing. 

Slowly, Peter crawled back up into his lap and slid his hands around Hook’s shoulders. He leaned in – smirk still firmly in place – and kissed him deeply. Hook groaned and wrapped his arms tightly around Peter’s back as he returned the kiss. He tasted himself on Peter’s tongue and it only made him want more. Darker, deeper, dangerous fantasies. 

When their kiss broke, Peter nuzzled his neck and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against his slowing pulse. “You taste amazing, Killian,” he whispered hotly into his ear. Hook could _feel_ the smirk against his skin and it made him shudder in pleasure. 

Peter was quickly becoming warm and soft in his arms and Hook realized how sleepy he suddenly was. The alcohol he’d drank earlier combined with post-orgasm languidness was dragging him quickly towards sleep. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to reciprocate; the idea of making Peter come apart under his touch was tempting. But he could hardly keep his eyes open. 

Peter seemed to know exactly what he needed though, pulling him down and moving so that they were both lying on the couch. Hook wrapped his arms around the teen and yawned against his shoulder, holding him close and reveling in his warmth. 

His last thought before falling asleep was despite how easy it was to hold Peter close – and how good it felt – was how guilty he’d feel when he woke up. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Thanks again for everyone who has commented and/or left kudos! I appreciate it! :)

He woke up on the edge of the couch with a pounding headache. The sun seemed to be shining especially brightly through the windows with one inconvenient beam of light falling directly across his eyes. His mouth felt like sandpaper and he burrowed closer to the warmth in front of him, wanting to block out the day for as long as he could. 

But his headache was unrelenting and he knew if he didn’t force himself to get up soon for some water and ibuprofen that he’d end up regretting it. Hangovers were hardly new for him and he knew how best to treat them…it was just a matter of forcing himself to stand. As he slowly started to wake up, he began remembering why he’d been so drunk and why he was on the couch and not in his bed. And most importantly, he remembered Peter. 

Peter and his low voice full of promises, his wicked smirk, his hands, his mouth… 

Hook forced his eyes open and swallowed hard. Peter was asleep, curled up against his chest, head on Hook’s arm, lips parted slightly. He looked deceptively innocent while he slept and that only served to increase Hook’s guilt. And that guilt was instantaneous and overwhelming. 

It didn’t matter that Peter was street-smart and savvy and more mature than his teenage years belied. It didn’t matter that Hook was positive Peter had a hidden agenda and was keeping secrets. It didn’t matter that Peter had taken advantage of his drunkenness and seduced him. Hook was the adult. Peter was, despite everything, a teenager…and Hook should have told him no. 

He disentangled himself from Peter slowly and carefully, hoping not to wake him. Facing him was a challenge he wasn’t up to just yet. As quietly as he could, he stumbled away from the couch and down the hall to the bathroom where he promptly locked himself in and leaned heavily against the sink. He didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror, so he opened the medicine cabinet instead to get some ibuprofen. He splashed some water on his face and then sank down slowly to sit on the edge of the tub. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. His stomach was churning, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the alcohol or the guilt. Probably a combination of the two. 

Every time he closed his eyes he saw Peter on his knees in front of him. And worse than remembering was the way his entire body reacted to the memory. He found himself stuck in a sick combination of arousal and disgust. 

He shouldn’t have let this happen. 

Just a few weeks ago he had made the resolve to be firm with Peter and prevent him from coming to his apartment again. Except he hadn’t told him no the next time – though he had managed to avoid the teen’s further attempts at physical contact. But last night…last night, his guard had been down due to too much alcohol and too many memories that he couldn’t escape. Peter had been a tempting refuge. Except now he was filled with shame and regret. 

If his brother could see him now he’d be so very disappointed. 

Thinking about Liam made his heart clench painfully and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the thoughts of him. But shutting his eyes brought images of Peter into his mind. His head spun with the thought of Peter’s tempting smirk and scalding touch joined with what would have been Liam’s disapproval and disappointment. 

He sank down to the cold, bathroom floor with a sob and raked his fingers through his hair and tried to catch his breath. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, replaying the previous night over and over in his head and berating himself for not stopping things more than once. The thoughts of guilt and regret were giving him more of a headache than the hangover. He hadn’t been so ridden with anxiety since Liam had died and he hated it. Eventually the silence was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Hook felt his stomach drop. 

“Killian?” 

Hook didn’t answer him. He wondered if he’d be lucky enough for Peter to just give up and leave. He doubted it. 

It didn’t take long. When Hook didn’t answer him for a good five minutes, Peter picked the lock and pushed the door open. He stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips and a slightly-concerned look on his face. It faded quickly when his eyes fell on Hook sitting on the floor, morphing into something more like exasperation. And pity. Hook knew he couldn’t look good…red-rimmed eyes, dark circles underneath them, morning stubble that was more messy than purposely rugged. 

Peter shook his head a little and sighed as though Hook were the most ridiculous thing he’d seen in a long time. He took a few steps forward and crouched down in front of him, hands folded as he leaned against his knees. 

“Is this about last night?” he asked, voice laced with a mocking sort of pity. 

“Is _what_ about last night?” Hook replied. He couldn’t quite meet Peter’s eyes but he was sure that the teen was rolling them skyward. 

“This,” Peter replied, nodding towards his current seat on the floor. “Is this some sort of dramatic show of guilt or do you always sleep off hangovers on your bathroom floor?” 

“Maybe I do.” 

Peter rolled his eyes again – Hook saw him do it this time. “You’re being childish.” He stood up again, reached a hand out to Hook and waited. 

Hook looked up and swallowed hard. Peter’s eyes were impossible to read, but he seemed to be willing to wait for Hook to make up his mind. Distantly, he realized that Peter was wearing his own threadbare jeans, but had somehow found one of Hook’s t-shirts. There was a hint of a red mark peeking over the collar of the t-shirt where Hook had sucked a bruise into his skin the night before. It made him flush with that same combination of shame and arousal he’d felt earlier. He realized that he didn’t have much choice though so he took Peter’s offered hand and stood up. Peter didn’t let go of his hand and stepped in closer, eyes still unreadable and fixed on him intently. 

Hook wanted to apologize as much as he wanted to give in, wrap his arms around the teen and kiss him. But he did neither. He still couldn’t figure out how Peter had gotten so completely under his skin in such a short time. Eventually, Peter – not one to be ignored – dug his fingernails into Hook’s palm and smirked when he received a flinch in return. 

“I really should be going.” 

Hook shrugged and still didn’t move. He refused to pull his hand away even if Peter’s fingers were practically burning his skin. “So go. I’m not stopping you.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “But I think you want to.” He gripped Hook’s shoulder with his other hand and leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to his mouth. 

Hook trembled with the effort of not returning the kiss, and he tried to keep his expression as indifferent as possible when Peter pulled back. Anger flashed quickly through Peter’s eyes, but he covered it quickly and shrugged instead. 

“I’ll see you soon, Killian.” He let go of his hand finally and threw him a smirk before leaving. Hook didn’t move until he heard the front door to his apartment open and close. 

Letting out a long, shaky breath, he ran his hand through his hair again and tried to ignore the way his skin still burned with Peter’s touch. He searched his apartment after that, wanting to make sure that the teen had indeed left – he didn’t put it past Peter to hide somewhere and sneak out to catch him at the most inopportune moment. Eventually satisfied, he got a glass of water and another couple ibuprofen before shutting off all of the lights and climbing into bed. He didn’t want to think about anything. 

When he woke up later, the sun was setting and his head was still pounding. His dreams had been vague and disconcerting, leaving him with a feeling of unease. The only thing he remembered clearly from all of them was Liam. 

Liam had gone missing on a Monday and they had found his body Tuesday evening. The autopsy had revealed a rare, fast-acting poison that had seeped in through his skin. He’d been found across town from his apartment, nowhere near the police station in a generally non-descript side road between two buildings. Killian had – with Neal and David’s help – worked himself to the point of exhaustion trying to find out what had happened to his brother with no success. 

After a year of leads that went nowhere and a maddening lack of evidence, he’d broken down on the anniversary of Liam’s death. He’d quit the police force, had refused any of his friends’ offers of help or sympathy and had practically drank himself into a coma. Eventually, David had forced his help on him, and Killian had reluctantly accepted – both his friendship and the offer of a job as a private investigator – but he still hadn’t recovered from the loss. 

Liam had been his only family. Their parents had died when Killian was just a teenager and there weren’t any grandparents or aunts or uncles around to turn to, so Liam had, for the most part, raised him. Killian had loved and admired Liam above all others. He’d become a cop because he hadn’t been able to imagine doing anything other than the same thing as his big brother. He’d managed to curb some of the things that had gotten him into trouble as a teenager – drinking and shoplifting – because he’d wanted Liam’s approval. He’d built everything so securely around his brother that losing him had caused his life to crumble. 

David had, to a point, taken him in by giving him a job and making sure he left his apartment occasionally for something wholesome like dinner with him and his wife. But Killian had never been sure if David’s friendship was completely genuine or more of one of obligation. David had been _Liam’s_ friend first, and Killian knew how infuriatingly noble David could be. Taking care of his dead friend’s troubled younger brother wasn’t something he would be able to say no to. 

That wasn’t to say that Killian didn’t appreciate David. It just wasn’t the same as having his brother. 

Other than David’s – and occasionally Mary Margaret’s – company, he rarely hung out with anyone else. He and Neal had been good friends once upon a time, but the situation with Emma had caused their friendship to fade. Killian didn’t blame Neal or Emma for that, but sometimes the loss of both of them left him lonely and sad. In the long run, he knew that he hadn’t been right for her, and Neal had the distinct advantage of being the father of her child. 

But above all, he still missed his brother. He didn’t want to think about what Liam would think of him now. 

He only knew of one way to deal with how he was feeling now, and that was to avoid dealing with any of it. He’d turn his phone off, ignore everyone and everything and empty his liquor cabinet. And he’d try his hardest to stop thinking about Peter. 

He didn’t know what he’d do though if – or when – Peter came back. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Real life is busy right now & I stumbled into some writer's block. Grrr. Hopefully it will pass & I'll have more to post soon! Thanks to everyone who has read and/or commented! :)

Hook hadn’t been to their office since _that night_ , so he wasn’t exactly surprised by David’s visit – especially after the unreturned phone calls – but it didn’t make it any easier to have to face him now. 

“So you are, in fact, alive,” David said dryly, raising an eyebrow at his appearance. 

Hook rolled his eyes and let him into the apartment, cringing at the collection of empty bottles on his coffee table. He knew David would notice. Combined with the fact that he hadn’t shaved or showered for the past few days, he knew he wasn’t presenting the healthiest of pictures. 

“I was going to call you back, I just…” 

“Drank your weight in rum instead?” David supplied, hand waving at the bottles as he sat down. “Is this about Liam?” he asked a few moments later, voice changing from dryly sarcastic to genuine concern. 

And it was that genuine note to his voice – the one that was always there no matter how much Killian tried to pretend it wasn’t – that made his heart ache. David couldn’t know how it was only adding to the guilt he already felt for everything that had happened. But it was good that he thought it had to do with his brother. Letting him think that was the only reason for his behavior was so much easier than the truth. 

Hook made a noncommittal noise and half-shrugged as he sat down opposite David and rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. Exaggerating, evading and bending the truth all came easily where David was concerned. But lying to him outright had never been something Hook had much success with. It was infuriating. 

The truth was he hadn’t left his apartment since Peter had, because he was terrified that someone would be able to tell what he’d let happen just by looking at him. The guilt _had_ to be written all over his face. But there was more to it than that. 

He couldn’t exactly tell David that he’d spent most of the past three days sitting by the window that overlooked his fire escape, waiting, watching and _wanting_ Peter to come back. Worst of all, he didn’t _just_ want him to come back so that he could make sure he was okay. Hook wanted him to come back because he couldn’t stop thinking about him. He couldn’t stop remembering. He couldn’t stop himself from wanting it all again. 

And he hated himself a little for it. 

Even now he could barely keep his eyes from wandering towards the window again. Peter rarely showed up until it was dark outside, but the boy was also unpredictable at best. 

“…sorry I didn’t call you that night, but I figured you’d want to be alone. Are you even listening to me?” 

“What?” He hadn’t been paying attention. 

“Killian…” David sounded a little exasperated now. 

“Can you not judge me right now, just this once? Or is that too difficult for you to manage?” Hook snapped. 

David sighed. “I’m worried, not judging.” 

“If you say so.” 

“I brought you some food.” 

Killian looked up at that, suddenly realizing that he was hungry. For the past three days he’d had very little to eat and way too much to drink. Of course, the fact that David had a perfectly packaged bag full of food only made him feel guiltier, because he knew where it had come from. 

Mary Margaret was, at times, the most irritatingly optimistic person he had ever met, but she was also incredibly sweet and kind. She had never once judged Killian for anything and he appreciated that more than he could say. He hated that she had apparently been worried about him enough to cook for him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the bag from David’s hands and peering inside. “Did you get any new leads on our missing person?” 

David frowned at that and rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah…we uh, found him yesterday.” 

Hook paused and eyed him warily. “So why do you sound so dismal? And who’s ‘we?’” 

“Because we found him floating in the bay. And ‘we’ is the police. Neal, to be specific. I got a call from him two nights ago saying that the wife had called them. I know the brother told us he didn’t want the police involved but I guess she took it upon herself to report her husband missing.” 

Hook cringed at that and frowned. “How did he die?” 

For a few quick seconds David’s eyes filled with a sharp worry, but he sighed. “Preliminary autopsy indicates poison…” 

Hook looked up sharply, suddenly feeling acutely alert and sober. 

David shook his head and reached out a little, but didn’t touch him. “No idea what kind of poison, Killian,” he said softly, the worry now bright in his eyes. “They won’t know that until the tox-screens come back.” 

Hook didn’t answer and he had to look away from David’s concerned gaze. He didn’t want to wonder…to think that there might be some sort of connection to Liam’s death. But if it turned out to be the same rare poison that had killed his brother…he both dreaded and desperately wanted to find an answer. 

“Killian…” 

Hook shook his head and gave David a half-smile. He let out a shaky breath and went back to looking through Mary Margaret’s bag of food. “It’s okay David, really. We’ll just have to…wait and see.” 

“Are you sure?” 

He rolled his eyes and pulled out a sandwich. “I’m sure, dad.” 

David smiled at that but the worry was still in his eyes. Hook hated it, even if he secretly appreciated that someone was concerned enough about him to worry. David left a little while later and thankfully didn’t bring up Hook’s drinking or Liam again. He was even more grateful that David didn’t think to ask if Peter had visited him again. He wouldn’t have been able to hide the truth…or his guilt. 

He took a shower after David left and felt marginally better than he had earlier thanks to the food. But as the sun set and he was left alone with his thoughts again, they inevitably turned darker. He resisted grabbing another bottle of rum – wasn’t even sure if he had any left – but didn’t resist the temptation to wait by the window and watch for Peter. This time he sat on the floor, back against the couch, and flipped through the notebook he’d kept since Liam’s death. Suspicions and evidence and leads…some that had gone nowhere, some that had only led him to more questions. It was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, despite countless hours going over the information. There had to be pieces missing, and he couldn’t help the tiny bit of hope that had crept up thanks to the information David had brought him today. 

A small creaking noise snapped him back to the present and when he looked up he was met with the face he’d been dreaming about for three long nights. He could barely breathe. 

Peter’s eyes held a little bit of surprise but he was quick to smirk and put his hands on his hips. He leaned back a little and propped a foot up against the wall. “Miss me?” 

Oh how Hook wished he could tell him no, but the unfortunate answer was that he had missed him more than he could handle. Whatever Peter was, he was so very, very intoxicating…and Hook was tired of trying to resist. He didn’t answer him with words, but instead stood up and crossed the room in a few quick steps to pull him into a deep, bruising kiss. 

Peter was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around Hook’s neck and opening his mouth for his tongue. Hook yanked him closer and Peter molded himself against him. 

Hook had no idea how long the kiss lasted, just knew that it wasn’t long enough when they finally broke apart to breathe. He kept Peter pressed tightly against him, suddenly loathe to have him any further away. He hated to admit it, but Peter was so far under his skin, so completely difficult to resist now. He only saw this ending badly, but with Peter here in his arms now he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“So you _have_ missed me,” Peter breathed against his mouth, lips turning up in his trademark smirk. 

“Where have you been?” he asked, voice rough. He thread his fingers through Peter’s hair, eyes fixed firmly on his damp, reddened mouth. 

Peter laughed and scraped his nails over Hook’s scalp, tugging at his hair. Hook met his eyes and scowled which only caused Peter’s smile to broaden. 

“Were you worried? Afraid I was off somewhere crying in a corner? Reporting you to the cops for taking advantage of me?” 

Hook glared at him. He _had_ been worried…and unfortunately, the thought of Neal showing up at his door to arrest him for unlawful sex with a minor had crossed his mind more than once. It made him want to shove Peter away and never see him again, but he didn’t move. And he had a feeling that even if he somehow found the strength to tell Peter he never wanted to see him again it wouldn’t work. This would end somehow and someday but Hook couldn’t see how. He just knew it wouldn’t end well. 

From the moment he’d met Peter, he could tell that he wasn’t completely who or what he said he was. But Hook didn’t know what he hoped to get out of this…relationship. He had given them less than helpful information from the beginning, and it seemed like his only reason for visiting Hook again and again was to flirt, torment and seduce. He did a very good job of all three. But he was a mystery. The few times Hook had tried to ask him anything about who he was, where he lived, where his family was…he evaded, returned questions with different questions or ignored him entirely and flirted. Hook had a lot of suspicions and questions…all of which he intended to look into and investigate if he could ever get his head to stop swimming with all of the things he wanted to do to Peter. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Peter murmured. He leaned in again and pressed a kiss to the bottom of his chin and then across his jaw line. He slid his hands further around Hook’s shoulders so he could press himself even closer. “Stop it.” 

Not thinking enough was what had gotten him into this mess in the first place. But it was difficult to remember that with Peter’s warm body pressed against his and his lips moving slowly across his throat. And despite the guilt he knew he would continue to feel, he was tired of trying to fight it. He wanted Peter. He kissed him again, pulling the teen in closer and walking them backwards to the couch. 

Later, when they were sprawled out together on the couch, limbs tangled, sweat damp on their skin, Peter looked up at him with gleaming eyes. His grin was smug and triumphant and unnerving. He’d known exactly what he had been doing by staying away for a few days…driving Hook crazy with want and worry. And Hook had given him exactly what he’d wanted: control. 

He vowed to be less vulnerable in the future, and above all he knew that he had to discover Peter’s secrets. He had a background and a history and something to hide….just like everyone else. And Hook was determined to figure it all out. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry for the horribly long delay in updating this! Writers block, real life, etc, etc, etc. But I definitely plan on finishing it! This isn't the longest chapter, but it's a start! I have these 2 back on the brain (finally!) & am hoping to finish this fic before the end of the summer! If you're still reading, I appreciate it! :)

Hook wasn’t sure if it had been weeks or months or more that he had fallen into this trap of a relationship with Peter. He rarely left his apartment, only occasionally showed up at work and barely even bothered to return phone calls or texts. He knew that David was worried, and he knew he should do something to assuage that worry lest he figure things out. But he couldn’t see past much of anything other than Peter. Sometimes he fantasized about David finding out, and he couldn’t help but think that was the only way this was going to end. If David found out then he could make it stop. He could do what Hook didn’t seem to have the strength to do…push Peter away. 

He was entirely too addicted to the teen and he had no idea how to give him up. But he also wanted to figure Peter out. Maybe if he could do that he could understand why he had been sucked into his orbit so quickly and completely. More than that, he just wanted to know Peter’s secrets. Where he lived, how he was able to stay out of the system, what had happened to his parents and what he did all day. He clearly wasn’t attending school yet he was incredibly intelligent. But where in a normal teenager that intelligence would be focused into school or a future career, Peter’s only added to his cunning. 

The teen was quick witted and his words were razor sharp. He could leave Hook feeling terrible with a few carefully chosen barbs when he wanted to. But his emotions were never steady, never easy to gauge and often changed in an instant. Where his intelligence was quite high, his emotional stability was closer to that of a child. 

Hook wanted to know everything he could about him, but getting answers was impossible. He never stayed very long either. He’d show up when he wanted, they’d fall into bed and he’d leave soon after. It wasn’t always quite that straightforward, and there were a handful of times that Peter had come to his apartment and they _hadn’t_ had sex, but those were few and far between. 

Hook had tried his hardest to look into Peter’s past, but finding answers wasn’t an easy task. He didn’t have his last name so he couldn’t exactly look for a birth certificate. And even if he did, he had no idea if the teen had even been born in Storybrook or if it had been a completely different state. The only thing he could find were a few local police records about loitering, trespassing and petty theft. None of them exactly mentioned Peter by name or picture, and there wasn’t even much to go by…no arrests or anything so severe. It was just something he managed to put together from an overall picture – just a few passing mentions of teenaged boys who didn’t seem to belong to anyone. 

But there was one that caught his eye more than anything else, and no matter how many times he looked at it, he couldn’t find a way to ignore what was plainly obvious. They were crime scene photos from his brother’s murder. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before…photos of the street, the surrounding buildings and every small item that might be evidence. There were bystanders in the background of the photos and Hook had studied them all before. But it had never crossed his mind to pay attention to one of the young teenagers lingering in the edge of a few of the shots. He wasn’t really looking at the scene and he was part of a crowd of other kids and a few adults, but it was unmistakable. 

It was Peter. _Peter_ had been at the site of his brother’s murder. 

The problem was, Hook had no idea what that meant. He wanted to think it was just a coincidence, but coincidences weren’t something he could easily associate with Peter. It also made him wonder about Adam, the missing person he and David had been hired to find. The fact that Peter had also happened to be in the same area that he’d been seen last seemed more suspicious when Hook lined it up next to the knowledge he now had about Peter being at Liam’s crime scene. 

But it was still all speculation. There weren’t any interviews with Peter in either case. It was nothing more than a few photos and the feeling Hook felt in his gut that Peter was hiding something. But he had no idea how to confront him about any of it. He found himself wanting to talk to David about it, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up without also having to confess his relationship with Peter. And he wasn’t ready to do that. 

He tried occasionally to glean information from Peter, but Peter never wanted to talk about who he was or how he lived other than the occasional quip and smirk. And he was usually gone soon after they had sex, making conversation something of a rare thing. 

Peter never gave up secrets, and Peter never stayed the night. Until he did both at the same time. 

He came over later than usual, but he never kept to a specific timetable so it wasn’t really that surprising. What _was_ surprising was that he used the front door instead of coming through Hook’s fire escape. 

“Did you pick my lock?” 

Peter stared at him steadily for a few moments before swinging a key chain around his finger. He smirked a little and pushed it into his jeans pocket. 

Hook frowned. “When did I give you a key?” 

“You didn’t.” Peter slipped off his shoes, crossed the room and sat down next to Hook on the couch. 

“When did you steal my keys and make one for yourself then?” 

Peter shrugged. “A few weeks ago.” 

“And yet you continue to use the fire escape most of the time.” 

Hook turned to look at him, ready to chastise him for stealing – even though he knew it was pointless – but the words left his mouth at the sight of him. He was slumped back against the couch, eyes staring vacantly at the TV as he stifled a yawn. Hook was positive that he had never seen Peter look…tired. Peter was always on alert, always appraising any situation to see how he could use it to his own advantage. This wasn’t a Peter he was used to seeing. It piqued his curiosity…and his concern. 

He let his hand drop to the back of Peter’s neck, fingers moving idly through his hair. Peter turned his head slightly and looked at him with curious, but still guarded, eyes. He stayed where he was for a few moments and then slid closer, arms coming around Hook’s back, one leg slipping between his own, until he was close. 

Peter sat up a little and reached out to drape his arms around Hook’s neck. He smirked at him, leaned in closer and kissed him slowly. Hook’s eyes fluttered shut, and he slid his arms around Peter’s back, pulling the teen against his body. Their kiss was slower than usual, and when Hook pressed his lips to Peter’s neck he was met with a sigh instead of the usual moan and tug to his hair. 

He pulled back for a moment and met Peter’s sleepy eyes with a curious stare. Peter ignored the look, and instead pulled Hook to his feet and led him towards the bedroom. Hook wanted to protest and stop – or at least put things on hold for a few minutes – but resisting Peter wasn’t his greatest strength. They stopped in front of Hook’s bed and Peter leaned in again, pressing his body flush against Hook’s and snaking his arms around him as he leaned in for another kiss. And Hook couldn’t do anything but return his kiss, follow his lead, and tumble into bed with him. 

If there was one thing he couldn’t figure out how to resist, it was Peter. But this night ended up being different from any of the others they had shared. Because when Hook woke up, Peter was still there. 


	7. Chapter 7 - interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to sneak in a chapter from Peter's POV! Needed to explain some backstory & such & it seemed easier this way. This chapter takes place just prior to the last one; it also includes the introduction of my minor OC. He's integral to the story, but won't really be a big part of it if that makes sense. Anyway, thanks again if you're sticking with this story through my slow updates! :)

“I want you to kill him.” 

Peter met Vincent’s eyes steadily for a few minutes, careful to keep his own expression neutral, but watching the older man’s eyes for any sign of change. He’d known this would come eventually, but he’d still been hoping it wouldn’t. 

When Vincent had found out about the relationship he’d developed with Hook, he’d been immensely pleased. He’d loved the idea of Peter slowly destroying Killian with his own guilt and shame at sleeping with a teenager. But Peter had also known it wouldn’t completely satisfy Vincent’s need to finish what remained of the Jones’ family. 

“Any particular way you’d like him to die? Poison again? Something less dramatic?” 

Vincent shrugged, his eyes cold and steady. “However you decide; I trust your judgment.” He turned to leave after that, pausing only briefly, to glance over his shoulder and meet Peter’s eyes once more. “Just do it soon.” 

His voice left no room for argument, so Peter simply nodded. When he was gone, Peter let out a shaky breath and made his way up to the roof of the building. The air was cool, but felt good on his skin and helped to calm his racing heart. He sat in his normal spot on the corner of the building, feet dangling over the edge, and dragged a hand over face. 

He didn’t want to kill Killian. 

A few weeks ago he wouldn’t have had a problem with it, but things were different now. Seducing Killian initially had been a thrill, and had been motivated by Peter’s desire to prove that he _could_. It didn’t hurt that Killian was also brutally attractive. But mostly, Peter loved the air of tragedy and angst that surrounded him. It was irresistible, and Peter loved the idea of breaking him just a little bit. 

But things had changed. Peter wouldn’t go so far as to use the word love…he had no idea what that even meant. But he couldn’t deny that he felt something for Hook. Going to his apartment now had less to do with breaking him and more to do with the fact that Peter genuinely liked being there. Killian afforded Peter a sort of freedom that he didn’t have otherwise. 

Vincent had been providing for Peter, Felix and a handful of other teenaged boys for years now. He gave them food and clothes and a place to live. It was a warehouse near the docks, seemingly abandoned from the outside, but comfortable enough inside for their small group. In return, they did a series of small crimes for him. Peter was the unofficial leader of the group, he and Felix having been the first two boys that Vincent had “employed.” 

At first it had been perfect. A very welcome rescue from the hellish foster homes Peter had spent his earliest years in. Vincent gave them freedom and provided for them and gave them their own belongings when they helped him out with things. Peter had been all too willing to do whatever was asked of him, as long as he didn’t have to go back to the state system or another uncaring foster home. 

And for the most part, Vincent treated them all fine. There weren’t any grave threats of retribution if they didn’t do everything he asked, but none of the boys ever seemed to want to tell him no. He made sure they had what they needed to survive, and he kept the cops and social services away from the area as best he could so that they wouldn’t be found out. Because above all, they were all runaways and none of them wanted to go back to where they’d run from. 

But after a while, the whole situation had just become another sort of cage that Peter couldn’t escape, and he’d decided to figure some things out about his benefactor, because Peter wanted out. The problem was that Peter was different from the rest of the boys and had the most to lose by leaving. He was the only one Vincent had ever asked to do more than petty crime. He’d convinced Peter to poison Liam Jones. 

Vincent wasn’t his real name, but his real name hardly mattered. Once upon a time, Vincent had been a police officer. Years of low pay and low recognition had made him bitter, and when a chance had come along to gain a little more on the side, he’d taken it. It had started out with bribes to look the other way, but there had been more money in actively helping criminals to profit. So he’d gone all out…tipping off mob bosses and drug dealers to a sting or who was an undercover cop they should avoid. He’d made more money in a few months than he’d ever made as a cop. It had gone on for quite some time, but then Liam had begun to suspect that something wasn’t right. And soon enough, Liam had figured out that he was a dirty cop. He’d racked up the proof and had gotten Vincent stripped of his badge and fired. His criminal contacts jumped ship, no longer needing to associate with him as he could no longer provide them with police protection. 

So Vincent had disappeared for a while and had bided his time and steadily nursed his need for vengeance. Liam was primarily the one to blame, so he’d made his move on him first. And then he’d waited for a few years, not wanting to get caught over something as silly as impatience. Adam, who’d recently gone missing and then found dead, had been his next target. Adam hadn’t been a cop, but he had provided Liam with valuable information and proof of Vincent’s criminal side. Lastly was Liam’s brother, Killian, who’d only been a rookie at the time of his firing. Killian hadn’t really been involved in the case, but he’d known enough at the time. And Vincent’s desire for revenge against Liam – whether he was dead or not – was strong. 

Peter could understand and respect Vincent’s desire for revenge, but the problem was that he no longer wanted to be involved in it. He didn’t want to kill Killian. 

“When are you going to do it?” 

Peter didn’t turn around but he sat up straighter at the sound of Felix’s voice. Felix dropped down next to him on the building’s ledge, tucking one leg underneath him and swinging the other over the side of the building. 

“Glad to see your eavesdropping skills have improved.” 

Felix grinned. “I do what I can.” 

Peter looked up at the midnight sky and sighed. Felix was probably the only person in the world that Peter actually trusted, but he was beginning to realize that he may have outgrown his friend, despite being two years younger than him. Felix would never question Vincent’s instructions or plans no matter what they were. Peter couldn’t seem to stop doing it. 

Felix nudged him in the shoulder. “So?” 

Peter turned to fix him with an annoyed glare. “What?” 

“When are you going to kill him?” he asked with an impatient roll of his eyes. 

Peter shrugged and turned away again so he could look up at the moon. “When I think of _how_ I want to do it.” 

It wasn’t the answer Felix was expecting, Peter knew that. He went still beside him and Peter could _feel_ his eyes boring into his head. Angry – and more confused than he would ever admit – he whipped his head around and gave Felix a withering glare. “W _hat?!_ ” 

Felix narrowed his eyes. “You _are_ going to kill him, aren’t you?” 

Peter’s glare didn’t falter, but something must have crossed through his eyes…some glimpse of the confusing feelings that he had wanted to keep hidden from everyone. Because Felix’s eyes widened now and his expression dissolved into one of outrage and anger. 

“Peter…” 

“Don’t,” Peter cut him off. “I can figure this out without your help,” he said coldly. 

“What’s to figure out? You need to kill him.” 

“What I need is for you to leave me alone! And if you don’t,” he went on when he saw Felix about to protest again, “Maybe I’ll kill you instead.” His glare was ice cold, body tense and just waiting for another challenge so he could snap into action. 

Felix knew that he didn’t make threats idly so he did stand up and back away, but his expression of disbelief and disappointment remained. “You’re a fool if you think you love him, Peter.” 

“You’re a fool for remaining on this roof, _Felix_ ,” he hissed. 

When he finally left, Peter forced himself to calm down, slowly unclenching his fists and drawing in a few deep breaths. Never one for procrastination, he forced himself to think about what he needed to do next. He had to find a way around murdering Killian, because he knew in his heart that he wouldn’t be able to do it. He wasn’t idealistic – or silly – enough to think that he was in love with the older man; some of his feelings for Killian were confusing and unfamiliar, but he wouldn’t chalk them up to love. Nevertheless, the idea of ending his life wasn’t something Peter would be able to do. He _liked_ Killian too much for that, and he liked their messy relationship too much to want it to end. 

But he also knew he couldn’t say no to Vincent – not on this matter – and expect things to go on as normal. Eradicating the Jones’ family and finishing his plot of revenge was Vincent’s end game. If Peter didn’t kill Killian, Vincent would find someone else who would. Peter imagined Felix would probably volunteer for the job if it became readily available. 

The thought crossed his mind to tell Killian everything, but he quickly dismissed it, knowing that it wouldn’t end well. He had to make a plan to escape the whole situation somehow instead. And maybe warn Killian of the impending plot against his life in the process. 

Standing up, he ran a hand through his hair and walked swiftly across the roof. The warehouse no longer provided him refuge from anything, and he didn’t want to face any of the boys now – especially not Felix. He reached into his pocket and closed his fingers around the key to Killian’s apartment and felt his lips turn up into a very small smile. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry for the long delay!! NaNoWriMo has inspired me to get back into this though & I _will_ finish it! The next chapter is mostly done too so hopefully I'll have that up soon. If you're still reading, I hope you enjoy the update  & thanks for your patience! :)

Hook woke up to the low rumble of thunder. It was early and the morning light was dimmer than usual due to the storm. He shifted slowly and stretched, stopping when he noticed the warm figure still borrowed under the covers. He took a deep breath and moved a little more carefully, trying not to wake Peter. 

He had never woken up with Peter before as the teen had never stayed the night. Hook ran a hand through Peter’s dirty blonde hair and allowed himself to take advantage of this moment. He’d never had a real opportunity to watch Peter without having the teen’s eyes on him. He looked almost innocent while he slept, and that sent a twinge of guilt through Hook’s heart. 

The teen had looked tired and had been unusually subdued last night. That probably had something to do with why he’d let himself fall asleep and stay the night. 

Peter was slow to wake up, pressing closer to Hook as he did, eyelashes fluttering against Hook’s neck as he finally opened his eyes. He yawned and met Hook’s eyes with a sleepy look of confusion. It was the first time since they had met when the thought crossed Hook’s mind that he looked… _soft_. 

“Good morning,” he murmured. He let his hand wander from Peter’s hair to the back of his neck and slowly down his back. 

Peter’s look of sleepy confusion was quick to fade into one of anxiety. “It’s light outside,” he said flatly. “What time is it?” 

Hook continued to drag his fingers down across Peter’s spine, enjoying the feeling of having him so close, sleepy and warm. “Early,” he answered. 

Peter swallowed a few times, eyes darting back to the window behind Hook, seeking out the lightening sky. “I should go.” 

“It’s early,” he repeated. “And it’s storming. Stay here for a while.” He pressed his palm into Peter’s lower back and pulled him a little closer again. As he brushed his lips over Peter’s temple, he marveled at how this was the first time he’d really wanted the teen to stay. Part of it was selfish…if he could keep Peter here, where he was relatively pliant and not as defensive as usual, maybe he could get him to answer some questions. But more than that, Hook found himself just wanting to share a lazy morning in bed with him. The thought was more than a little frightening for a whole lot of reasons, but he didn’t take the time to stop and examine them now. 

Peter shivered a little as Hook ran his fingers over his hip and brushed his lips over his jaw line and down his throat. He dug his fingers into Hook’s shoulder a little bit and sucked in a shaky breath. Hook was suddenly struck with the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one subject to their powerful attraction. He’d never taken the time to think about it before – too busy feeling guilty and uncertain of what he was doing – but he realized now that Peter wasn’t the only one who could seduce. 

Pulling Peter closer to him, Hook dipped his head down and captured Peter’s mouth in a soft, lazy kiss. He took his time, wrapping his arms tightly around the teen and kissing him slowly. Peter moaned a little when their tongues met and returned his embrace eagerly. He pushed his fingers through Hook’s dark hair and slipped his other hand around to the small of his back to pull him closer. Peter tangled their legs together and pressed his knee between Hook’s thighs, an action which caused Hook to dig his fingers into Peter’s hip. 

He wanted Peter closer, but he didn’t want to fall prey to their normal routine, which always involved Peter driving him out of his mind with lust and desire. When their kiss broke, they were both breathing heavily and still pressed tightly together. There was a look of genuine want in Peter’s eyes that Hook had never seen before – or had previously just ignored – that had his heart speeding up and his blood quickening. He wanted more. 

He kissed Peter’s chin and his jaw line and down across his tender throat, kissing and sucking and nibbling his skin until he left a bruise. Peter’s fingers tangled in his hair and tugged sharply, pulling him up again for another deep, open-mouthed kiss. He was arching up into Hook, fingers trailing down over his back and pulling him closer. Hook bit down on Peter’s lower lip and slipped his hand between them. Peter cried out and dug his nails into his back when Hook closed his fingers around his cock. 

“Killian…” he breathed. He pushed up into Hook’s touch and pulled him down for another kiss at the same time, moaning into Hook’s mouth. 

Their kisses were open-mouthed, hot and messy. Peter was panting and gasping as Hook stroked him, fingers tight and slick around him. He loved seeing Peter come undone beneath his touch. Peter never went without pleasure when the two of them had sex, but he was almost always in control. 

Hook kissed his neck again, sucking another bruise into his skin, fingers still moving deftly over his cock, bringing him closer. And when he bit down on Peter’s collarbone, he came, shuddering and moaning and grasping Hook close. 

When Hook lifted his head, he smiled at Peter’s blissful expression and leaned down to kiss his bruised, swollen lips again. Peter returned the kiss lazily, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around the older man. Eventually Hook pulled back and shifted onto his side, smiling again when Peter didn’t make an immediate move to stand up. Instead, Peter settled at his side and draped an arm over his waist. He was quiet for a while, but eventually he trailed his fingers up and down Hook’s side and looked at him with curious eyes. 

“You have questions for me.” 

Hook remained silent, intrigued by Peter’s sudden desire to talk. It was a rarity for him and for their relationship. 

“So ask me what you want,” he went on, voice low and steady. “I may not answer everything, but I won’t lie to you.” 

A part of Hook wanted to ask him why he was making this offer now, but he knew that would end up being the first and final question. Peter didn’t make offers like this lightly so Hook knew he needed to take advantage of it while he could. So he started with something relatively easy…although it was still a big deal to him. 

“Peter, how old are you?” he asked. “The truth.” 

Peter sighed and gave him a frustrated look of exasperation. “Why is that so important to you?” 

Hook ran his fingers over Peter’s collarbone and followed the movement with his eyes. “I just want to know how big of a sin I’m committing.” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he muttered. “Seventeen, Killian. I’m seventeen. Happy?” 

He looked up and met Peter’s gray eyes and shook his head a little, giving him a resigned smile. Those eyes looked back at him with far more age and maturity than the number he just gave him implied. It didn’t help to alleviate the feeling of guilt that was still settled around his heart. 

But Peter was already impatient, that same look of exasperation on his face as he’d worn the time he’d found Hook locked in the bathroom. 

“What else?” he asked, eyes giving away nothing now. 

Hook frowned. “What do you mean?” 

Peter rolled his eyes again and poked him in the shoulder. “You can be horrendously stupid sometimes, Killian,” he said with a sigh. “What else do you want to ask me? I know how curious you are.” 

Hook watched him silently for a few moments, still surprised by the offer. 

“Well?” 

“How is it you’re able to avoid the system so easily? You and your blond-haired friend. Where are you living?” 

Peter’s eyes flashed briefly before his expression went back to nonchalance. But that flash only served to deepen Hook’s curiosity and suspicion. Something was bothering Peter. Something or someone had some sort of hold on him. Because that brief show of emotion had been fear. 

“The system is not all that hard to avoid, Killian,” he answered dryly. “Unless an adult is reporting you missing or reporting you as a nuisance, the system doesn’t care much. Not for me, for Felix, or for the other twelve boys who live in the same abandoned warehouse.” He sounded bitter. 

“Twelve?” Hook asked in disbelief. “But how are you surviving? Petty theft can’t possibly be enough to feed fourteen of you.” 

This time the fear in Peter’s eyes lasted longer than just a brief moment. “Peter?” 

His expression hardened quickly, but Hook’s suspicions were already confirmed. Someone was holding something over Peter. Maybe he was taking care of them with shelter and food, but there had to be a catch. 

“Who is he?” 

“What?” 

“Or she? Them? Who’s providing for all of you? What are they asking you to do in return?” His suspicion was growing by the minute, and he couldn’t help wondering how – or _if_ – this tied in with his brother’s death in any way. 

Peter shook his head and sat up, eyes dark, expression closed off. “No,” he said quietly. “Ask me something else.” 

Hook sat up next to him and leaned back against the headboard. “Peter, if you’re in trouble--” 

“Don’t, Killian,” he answered sharply. He met his eyes again and Hook couldn’t read him. He couldn’t tell if there was fear in his eyes or if he was pleading with Hook to stop or if he was just blatantly refusing to answer. It seemed to be a combination of the three. “Unless you want me to leave, ask me something else.” 

There was no room for argument in his voice and Hook knew he couldn’t push. But he fully intended to pursue this for answers. 

He was quiet for a few minutes, thinking. And then finally, because he knew Peter would leave if he didn’t continue their conversation, he turned to him and met his eyes. “What happened to your parents?” 

Peter met his eyes steadily for a few minutes, not saying anything. There was a myriad of expressions on the teen’s face that Hook wasn’t sure how to interpret, but he had an idea of how he was feeling. 

Finally, Peter sighed and looked away. “I don’t know,” he answered. “I have no memory of them so either they died when I was a baby or they simply didn’t want me.” He didn’t sound sad, just…resigned. “Probably the latter.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

“Because I asked when I was younger. I asked anyone who would listen – which was rarely anyone. Foster parents, social workers, anyone who was over the age of eighteen who might know who they were or what had happened to them. And no one would ever give me a straight answer. If they had died, someone would have told me that; it would have been a straightforward answer. Telling a six-year-old that he simply wasn’t wanted was apparently frowned upon.” 

Hook wanted to reach out, to comfort him somehow, but Peter was perched so stiffly next to him that Hook knew if he tried to touch him he would shrug him off. So he simply listened instead. He knew what Peter was feeling though. No, he'd never been dropped into an uncaring foster home, but he _had_ been orphaned. His parents had died when he was young, and despite Liam's constant and caring presence in his life while growing up, it wasn't always the same as having a mother and a father. 

“So how did you meet Felix?” Peter had gone silent after a few more thoughts on his foster homes and didn't seem prone to continue without Hook's prompting. 

It took him a few moments, but he finally managed to shake off the sadness that had fallen upon him while talking about his parents. “We met in one of the foster homes. I was twelve and he was fourteen. We had a shared hatred of everyone else there, but especially our less-than-caring foster parents,” he answered, voice back to its usual casual attitude. “So we made a plan to run away.” 

“And you succeeded, obviously. No one looked for you or reported you missing?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Reporting it would’ve caused an investigation, and that was the last thing this particular foster home would have wanted. I'm sure they found a way to cover up our absence the next time the government came to do a checkup.” 

“So you left when you were twelve?” 

“No, we waited about a year and a half...hoarding money and other things we thought we might need. Then we left. No one ever came looking.” 

“And then you ended up living in an abandoned warehouse with twelve other boys and feeding yourself with petty theft?” He didn't try to hide the doubt in his voice. 

Peter glared at him and got out of bed, angrily reaching for his clothes. “I already told you I wasn't going to answer any of that.” The lights flickered due to the storm and Hook stayed silent. He watched Peter pull on his jeans and t-shirt and felt his breath catch in his throat. Peter was protecting someone, but Hook didn't know who. Or why. And it was plainly obvious that he was doing it because he was scared. But whether he was scared for himself or for Hook was another question he knew he wasn't going to have answered. But there was one more question he _had_ to ask. 

“Peter...did you know my brother?” 

Peter stilled, back to Hook, and didn’t reply. Slowly, he pulled his t-shirt over his head, but remained facing away from Hook, and more than a few minutes ticked by with no response. His continued silence was more than enough of an answer though. 

Hook’s heart was pounding in his chest as he stood up and pulled on his own clothes with shaking hands. Peter still hadn’t moved other than to run his thumb over his fingers nervously. And once Hook was dressed he too stood still and just stared at Peter’s back, breath catching in his throat, emotions warring between fury and sadness. 

Losing Liam had changed him, defined and shaped his life into who he was now. And that wasn’t someone he was very proud of being. He’d always been a bit of an outsider, not as charismatic or easygoing as his older brother. But losing Liam to murder had upended his life completely. He’d quit his job, pushed away friends, become – for all intents and purposes – an alcoholic. He hadn’t been able to recover. And now here was Peter, the boy who had captured, if not his heart, his intense fascination and desire…turning out to be the one who had taken his brother from him. 

No, he didn’t know that for sure, but he could add up the pieces and he guessed that it was true. He _felt_ it to be true. And when Peter finally turned around to look at him again, he _knew_ it was. There was guilt written plainly all over his face, his gray eyes sorrowful. 

Peter bit his lower lip and swallowed hard as he stepped closer to Hook. He reached out to touch him, but thought the better of it and let his hand fall to his side. But he leaned in instead and pressed his lips softly to Hook’s mouth and then his cheek. 

Hook shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hating himself all the more for not pushing Peter away. 

“I _am_ sorry, Killian,” Peter whispered against his ear. He lingered for a few moments, breath warm against Hook’s neck. He seemed to want to do or say something more, but then turned away to leave instead. 

Hook grabbed his elbow tightly and Peter let him, looking up at him with the same sad eyes. They stared at one another for a few moments until Hook finally looked away and dropped his arm. Peter didn’t wait this time, but he brushed his fingertips over Hook’s hand as he walked away. Hook didn’t breathe again until he heard his apartment door shut. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close to the end! Only one more chapter after this. Thanks to all who have been reading & for putting up with my terribly slow pace! :)

There was a very big part of him that wanted to run after Peter. He still had so many unanswered questions to ask him, the biggest one being _why_. The image of slamming Peter into a wall and demanding answers briefly flashed through his head. But his thoughts were clouded and he couldn’t shake the dazed feeling of having his life upended…again. He was still standing in his bedroom several minutes later when he heard a knock on the door. 

He didn’t really think that it would be Peter, but he couldn’t help hoping. Except when he got closer, he noticed a key – the key Peter had made for himself – on the table next to the door. He knew with certainty that Peter wasn’t planning on coming back. And if he had changed his mind, he certainly wouldn’t have knocked. 

He definitely did not expect to find David and Neal on the other side of the door, but he knew that they couldn’t have picked a worse time. He wasn’t in the mood to see either of them right now. Except David’s eyes were full of sympathy and Neal was having a hard time meeting his eyes. 

“What?” 

“Killian, can we come in?” David asked, sounding apologetic. 

He narrowed his eyes. “Now’s not the best time. Why?” 

Neal sighed and finally looked up. “It’s about your brother.” 

That got his attention quickly, the memory of Peter’s wordless confession still fresh in his mind. He wondered what David and Neal would possibly have to add to that. 

He didn’t say anything, but walked back inside and left the door open, knowing that they would follow. He went directly to the cabinet near his couch to pour himself a drink and waited for them to start talking. When he couldn’t find a nearby glass, he drank straight from the bottle instead, instantly feeling relieved when the rum began to burn its way down his throat. Neither of them had said a word yet, and when he turned around he frowned and took another drink for courage because they hadn’t sat down. 

“Killian…” David said his name softly, sadness bright in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to reach for the bottle Hook was clutching so tightly but decided against it. “Neal thinks he knows who’s behind your brother’s murder.” 

Hook was intrigued by the way he worded it. He didn’t say, _“We know who killed your brother.”_ Which was fine, since Hook _already_ knew who had done that. But finding out who was behind it was the question that Peter had refused to answer. 

“Do you remember Officer Richards?” Neal asked. 

Killian shook his head. “Should I?” 

“Not really. He was a cop at the same time as your brother. Liam ended up busting him for being dirty…looking the other way at certain things, bribes, drugs, the works. We looked into him before, but he did a bang up job of covering his tracks. Allegedly moving across the country…he had faked employee records and tax forms, I think there’s even a phone-interview with him on file. But it turns out he never left Storybrooke. He’s been living under the radar, and he seems to have hired a group of runaway teens to…do certain things for him. Mostly petty crime.” Neal ended his story with a note of uncertainty in his voice that had not been there at the start. Hook didn’t want to wonder why that was even though he already knew. 

“ _Mostly_ petty crime?” 

Neal looked at David who stepped forward a little. Hook took another long drink of rum and refused to look either of them in the eye. He didn’t know exactly what all they knew, but this had to be leading to Peter. And even if they didn’t know the extent of his relationship with the teen, he couldn’t see a way out of this conversation that didn’t end with him telling them everything. 

“We think he got one of the boys to…to give Liam the poison that killed him,” David explained. “And then later to Adam, our missing person…turns out he had given Liam intel on Richards.” 

Hook could barely breathe. He gripped the bottle more tightly. “And do you know who this boy is?” he asked, voice hoarse. He still hadn’t looked up at either of them. 

It was Neal who answered next, his words sounding both blunt and apologetic. “It was the boy who left your apartment just before we got here.” 

The silence was deafening and Hook could only sink down to the couch on unsteady legs and drag his hand over his face. 

“Why was he here?” Neal asked eventually. “David told me that you had interviewed him as a potential witness in Adam’s case, but he also said he wasn’t very helpful. That was months ago…” 

Hook felt sick, but he took another pull from the bottle of rum before he finally looked up to meet their questioning gazes. He set the bottle down on the table next to the couch and shrugged, a sad and helpless smile on his face. 

“David, remember when he was in our office and you told me to be careful? In regards to Peter?” he asked softly. 

David nodded, a look of confusion on his face. That made it worse, because Hook knew then that he _didn’t_ know. Neither of them knew the truth of his relationship with Peter. They may not have even known his name. 

“I wasn’t careful,” he confessed. “I was the exact opposite of careful. And this was hardly the first time that he’s been to my apartment.” 

Neither of them said anything in reply, and Hook couldn’t continue to meet their eyes so he looked down again. He reached for his bottle of rum again, but didn’t do much other than hold it. 

David’s tone was tentative when he finally spoke. “Killian…are you saying that…” he trailed off awkwardly. 

Hook rolled his eyes and slammed the bottle back down on the table, suddenly furious. “I _fucked_ him, David! Several times! He seduced me when I was drunk on the anniversary of Liam’s death, and I haven’t been able to resist him since then.” 

David’s eyes widened and Neal’s expression finally took on one of surprise, instead of his previous neutral indifference. 

“Christ,” he breathed. “You have no idea…” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s ridiculously good at mind games and exploiting vulnerability, and believe me I know it’s no excuse for what I’ve done, but…he’s also _not_ just an innocent, misguided teenager.” 

“You don’t exactly seem shocked by the news that he poisoned your brother,” Neal remarked. 

“I’m not,” he answered, resigned. “I actually figured that out on my own a few nights ago. He more or less confessed it to me this evening. And I knew there was someone behind the scenes, but I didn’t know who that was until you came here tonight.” 

The silence that kept falling in between their sentences was heavy and uncomfortable, but Hook couldn’t blame them for not knowing what to say. His guilt was probably more potent than their disappointment. He took another drink of rum, thrilled when the silence was interrupted by Neal’s ringing cell phone. Of course, as Neal turned away to take the call, that left him the sole subject of David’s focus and he did everything he could to avoid looking up. He couldn’t bear to see disappointment or disgust written on his face. 

Hook did his best to ignore the feeling of David's eyes on him while he picked at the label on the bottle of rum. He knew that eventually he'd have to have a conversation with David, but he was determined to avoid it as long as he could. Neal finished his phone call with a swift, “I'll be right there,” and turned around again to face them both. 

“There's a...situation at one of the warehouses down by the harbor. I have to go.” 

Hook looked up sharply. “What happened?” 

“I don't have time to--” 

“Neal, it has something to do with Peter, doesn't it?” he asked, sounding a little desperate. 

Neal met his eyes but didn't answer. Hook stood up, suddenly filled with anxiety. “I'm coming with you.” 

“Killian, I can't just let you tag along!” 

“Tell me what happened! Is he...?” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. But all he could think of was that something awful had happened to Peter. He had never taken the time to examine his feelings - other than fear, guilt and lust - towards the teen, but the idea of something happening to him filled him with dread. 

Neal sighed and shook his head. “It's not him,” he answered finally. “Another teenager was apparently killed...a blonde. And now Peter is in some sort of standoff with an older man...probably Richards. The reports from the scene are vague right now but we have more men on the way.” 

Hook swallowed hard and took another step towards Neal, relief and anger flooding through him equally. “Let me come with you.” Neal started to shake his head but Hook interrupted him. “Peter's not going to listen to anyone else, Neal.” 

“And what about Richards? I know you want vengeance for Liam's death, but I can't just let you...” 

Hook interrupted again. “That's not what this is about. I don't want...I don't want Peter to get himself killed.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “Please let me come with you.” 

Neal looked at him and then David for a few more moments before he finally nodded. “Fine, let's go...both of you. But you're not leaving the car until I say so.” 

Hook nodded eagerly and he and David quickly followed Neal out to his car. He would’ve agree to any of Neal’s stipulations so long as he got to go with him. 

Of course, once he was in the car – the backseat of Neal’s police car – all he could do was replay the conversation he’d had with them in his head. Getting through whatever happened next was forefront on his mind, but he couldn’t help but think about what might happen after all of this settled down. He was still dreading that inevitable conversation with David and wondering if there was any way he could avoid it. He hated to think of David looking at him any differently for this. He felt enough of his own guilt over Peter…he didn’t want to add “disappointing David” to the list. 

Apparently David was expecting them to talk too, because while Neal was in the front seat on the radio – something Hook was trying to eavesdrop on – David kept looking at him. When Hook finally gained the courage to look back, he was relieved to see concern in his friend’s eyes and not outright disgust. 

“I know we have to talk about this, but I need to…make sure he’s safe first,” he said quietly. It was surprising to him just how much that was true. The thought of Peter being physically hurt – or worse – was quickly growing into something he didn’t want to face. 

David nodded, a slight look of surprise on his face. But there still wasn’t any disappointment or disgust in David’s expression and Hook was more than grateful for it. In the back of his mind, he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. David was never really judgmental with him. It was more that Hook always _expected_ – and thought he deserved – harsh judgment for his actions or choices. But at the very least, he would’ve thought that sleeping with an underage teenager would have incurred some sort of criticism from his friend. It still might, but Hook was thankful that David was, for the time being, not saying anything. 

The car stopped suddenly amidst a sea of flashing police lights. Neal turned around and fixed Hook with an intense look. “Stay here.” 

“But Neal--” 

Neal shook his head once and got out of the car. With a frustrated growl, Hook leaned back against the seat and shut his eyes, but he didn’t stay there long. 

“Killian, what on earth are you doing?” 

“I can’t just sit here and wait to see what happens.” 

“We’re in the back of a police car. It’s locked.” 

Hook waved him off dismissively and turned his attention back to the door. “Having briefly _been_ a police officer, I know how to get out of the back seat, David.” It only took a few minutes to find the window release, and once he did he pushed the window down, reached outside and opened the door. 

He moved quickly in between the police cars to get to the back of the warehouse. He didn’t look to see if David was following him or not; he was focused solely on locating Peter. But he was unprepared for the scene that lay ahead of him and when he got there, he found himself frozen on the spot from fear. His breath caught in his throat as he took in Peter, standing rigid with a gun in his hands. He had it pointed at an older man, whom Hook vaguely recognized and knew now to be Officer Richards. Felix was on the ground at Peter’s feet, presumably dead. Peter’s eyes were wild and angry and Hook could feel the fear and desperation radiating off of him. He was saying something to Richards, but Hook was too far away to hear it. Police were surrounding the scene, guns aimed, two officers in Kevlar vests approaching Peter hesitantly. 

“I told you to wait in the car,” Neal hissed, walking up next to him and grabbing his arm. 

Hook shook him off and looked at him with wide eyes. “Let me talk to him, Neal,” he begged. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Neal! He’s not going to listen to anyone else!” 

“What makes you think he’s going to listen to you?” 

“He will,” Hook insisted. 

“Neal, it couldn’t hurt,” David said, showing up at Hook’s side, his eyes glancing to the situation at hand in concern. “It doesn’t look like your guys are having much luck.” 

Peter hadn’t budged, still glaring at Officer Richards, his gun pointed steadily at the center of his chest. He wasn’t even glancing at the two officers who were trying to talk to him. What worried Hook most was the look on Peter’s face. It wasn’t his normal self-assured, cocky confidence and clarity. It was wild and out-of-control and it made Hook very nervous. 

“Neal, _please_ ,” Hook said quietly, finally taking his eyes off of Peter to look at his friend. 

Neal stared at him warily for a few moments, but finally relented. He grabbed Hook by the shoulder and pulled him closer towards unfolding crime scene. 

Heart in his throat, he took a few steps forward. “Peter?” 

Everything happened too quickly after that. As Hook had predicted, Peter _did_ listen to him. He finally turned his gaze away from Richards when he heard Hook call his name. It was just a glance, but Hook saw confusion and worry and sorrow flash brightly in his gray eyes. 

But looking away lost him his advantage over the older man. Before Hook could say anything else, before Neal or any of the other policeman could move in, Officer Richards pulled a gun from under the waistband of his pants and fired. 

While it had happened so fast, Hook felt time suddenly freeze as he watched Peter fall. He pulled himself free of Neal’s grip, ignored the protests he could hear from him and David, ignored the other shots that were fired as the police took down Officer Richards. His attention was solely focused on Peter. 

He dropped to his knees at the teen’s side and touched him gently, swallowing down panic as he watched blood bloom across his shirt. Peter’s head lolled to the side and his eyes were full of surprise when he met Hook’s gaze. 

“Killian…” His voice was weak and held none of his usual cockiness. He sounded afraid…and so very young. 

Hook shook his head. “Shh…” he soothed. He gingerly peeled Peter’s shirt back a bit to assess his wound, trying not to let his emotions show on his face. But it wasn’t easy. He’d been shot in the side of his chest and despite the pressure Hook started to apply, the flow of blood wasn’t slowing. 

“Try not to talk, Peter. The paramedics will be here soon,” he murmured. He could hear Neal on the phone behind him calling for an ambulance. He just hoped it would be here sooner rather than later. 

Peter reached out and lightly squeezed his wrist. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, his breath shallow. “About your brother…” he went on despite Hook shaking his head. “He forced me to…I had to protect the other boys, and…” 

Hook leaned in closer and shook his head again. “It’s okay Peter…I know. I know what he did to all of you. Please just…hold on for a little bit longer, okay?” 

Peter’s fingers tightened briefly on his wrist again. “And you Killian…” he went on, voice shaking and watery now. “I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through…” His eyes pleaded with Hook to understand. 

He felt his heart clench painfully. “No, Peter…you haven’t…I wanted all of it,” he answered earnestly. It wasn’t entirely true, but it hardly mattered now. 

When Peter spoke again, Hook could barely hear him so he leaned in closer, hands still pressed tightly to his wound. He was trying desperately to ignore the blood seeping over his fingers and how cold Peter’s skin was becoming. “I liked the way you touched me, Killian,” he whispered, a soft smile on his face. “Like you wanted me…no one else ever has…” 

“Peter…” He wanted to pull Peter close, to try and explain the way he felt – even though he didn’t quite know what that was himself – and save him. But Peter’s skin was growing colder, the flow of blood slowing and his eyes were falling shut. “Peter, please don’t…” 

The paramedics arrived then and quickly pulled him aside, setting to work on trying to save Peter’s life. He felt himself pulled to his feet, heard David’s and Neal’s voices, but he couldn’t look away from Peter. He watched the paramedics, their movements urgent and efficient, heart sinking each time he glimpsed Peter's pale face. But he couldn’t move, could only watch, and it wasn’t until they loaded Peter into the ambulance and drove away with flashing lights that he turned and stumbled heavily against David. 

Without a word, David led him back to Neal’s police car. Neither of them said anything, but Neal drove quickly towards the hospital. Hook slumped against David in the back seat and shut his eyes, trying to ignore everything, trying not to hope, but wanting to all the same. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah, I finally finished this thing!!! If you're still reading then you're an absolute pro & thank you SO much for sticking with it through my very, very slow progress. Despite how long it took me to finish I had so much fun writing this. Thanks again to everyone who has read, reviewed, left kudos, etc. xoxoxo :)

Hospital coffee was terrible. Hook wished that he had brought some rum with him. 

It was two days after Peter had been shot, but he still hadn’t woken up. He’d come through surgery relatively well, but as he’d had some damage to one of his lungs the doctors were keeping him sedated and on a respirator until he was stronger. They’d assured him that Peter was young and healthy overall and with time he should make a full recovery. 

But Hook still wanted to see his eyes again. 

David had stayed at the hospital with him that first night. He’d been a strong, quiet presence at Hook’s side…more of a comfort than Hook believed he deserved. And he’d confessed everything to David then while waiting for Peter to get out of surgery. David had been far more understanding than Hook had expected or thought he deserved. There was no denying the fact that he still felt guilty about everything that had happened with Peter. And he told David that. 

_“He’s seventeen, David. Seventeen. I know he’s not…innocent, but still…. I should’ve stopped it. I…I never should’ve let it happen in the first place, but I should’ve stopped it.”_

_David didn’t agree or disagree. But he reached out to grip Hook’s arm, offering a silent sort of comfort. It was many long minutes later when he asked his first question._

_“Do you love him, Killian?”_

_He scoffed and shrugged David’s hand off. But the truth was, he had no idea how to answer his question. “I wouldn’t say that,” he finally answered._

_“But you care about him. I doubt we’d be sitting here if you didn’t.”_

_Hook sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He didn’t say anything more, but he knew David was right. He had never taken the time to examine his feelings for Peter, but today’s events had forced him to. What he’d said to David was true…he wouldn’t say that he loved the teen, but he definitely cared for him. And he understood him…sometimes more than he would like to admit._

“Mr. Jones?” 

Hook looked up, shaken out of his memory by the nurse’s voice. 

“He’s awake. You can visit with him for a little while.” 

His breath caught in his throat, but he managed a nod and a quick “thanks.” He stood up on shaky legs and followed her down the hall towards Peter’s room. 

He knew what to expect…Peter had been lucky to survive. He’d just been taken off of the respirator, but was probably still hooked up to a variety of machines. But seeing him in a hospital bed still hit Hook hard. He lingered in the doorway for a little while, trying to calm his breathing and gather his racing thoughts. But when he took a step forward, Peter’s eyes met his and Hook felt a rush of relief. Despite the bandages and IV lines and heart monitor, despite the exhaustion that colored his features, there was still that same glint in his eyes, that little smirk on his face. 

“Looks like I’ll live,” he quipped. 

“So it seems,” Hook answered, voice rough, betraying his relief. 

His legs were still shaky as he moved forward to pull a chair to Peter’s side. He sat down heavily and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. Now that he was here, he didn’t really know what to say, but he didn’t really think it mattered. Peter was exhausted. 

They sat quietly for a while, Peter drifting in and out of sleep, Hook watching him constantly. When he thought Peter was completely asleep he reached out carefully and slid his fingers into Peter’s hand. He looked up and drew in a quick breath when he found Peter watching him, not asleep after all. Hook waited for a sharp word, but Peter only looked at him intently for a few moments. 

“Killian…Felix really is dead, isn’t he?” he asked softly, eyes looking back down at where Hook held his hand. 

Hook cleared his throat and frowned. He had nearly forgotten about Peter’s friend, but recalled him lying still on the pavement when he’d shown up at the scene. He nodded before he realized Peter wasn’t looking at him any longer. “He is,” he answered quietly. “I’m sorry, Peter.” 

Peter nodded and shut his eyes again, pulling his hand out of Hook’s grasp when he squeezed his fingers. Hook sighed, knowing that the teen didn’t accept comfort easily. 

He didn’t say anything else and he fell asleep soon after, but Hook stayed for a while longer, watching him silently. Before he left he pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. 

~*~*~ 

“I won’t go into foster care or whatever other state-run facility they might want to place me into.” 

“What about jail?” Hook asked dryly. “You did kill someone.” 

“ _Two_ people,” Peter snapped, cruelly. 

Hook winced and looked away, shutting his eyes when he felt Peter’s hand press against his own in apology. 

Peter had been in the hospital for a little over a week. He’d been moved from the ICU to a regular floor a day ago. Hook showed up every day without fail to visit with him. Despite everything, he found he couldn’t stay away. He wasn’t sure if it was guilt or fear or genuine concern. Seeing Peter daily never really made him feel any better about anything that had happened. But it was better than sitting alone in his apartment. 

“They’re not going to send me to jail,” he said softly after a few minutes. 

“How do you know that?” Hook asked. 

“Because they told me so.” He pulled his hand away and sat up a bit, cringing slightly in pain as he did so. “Your friend Neal came to see me yesterday. He didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but apparently the DA won’t be prosecuting a poor, damaged teenager who’s lived in duress for most of his life.” 

The smirk Hook knew so well was back on Peter’s face again, and he couldn’t help laughing a bit at his words. There was no doubt that Peter was damaged – Hook knew because he saw so much of himself in the teen – but not in the way the state seemed to be thinking. “So they told you they’d put you into foster care instead?” 

Peter’s eyes darkened. “I won’t go back into the system.” 

“You’re seventeen. You’ll be there less than a year.” 

“I don’t care, Killian. I won’t go.” 

Hook raised his eyebrows and held up his hands to Peter’s glare. “Fine, you won’t go. Where do you plan on going when they release you from the hospital then?” 

Peter dropped his glare, looked away and shrugged. “I’ll figure it out.” 

Hook frowned. He knew as well as Peter did that he didn’t have anywhere to go. The warehouse he’d called home for the past few years had been raided by the police. The boys who’d still been living there had already been taken to foster care or group homes now that their benefactor was dead. Hook didn’t doubt that Peter was cunning enough to figure out a way to survive, but the thought of him alone on the streets left Hook with a heavy feeling in his chest. 

Peter didn’t say anything else about it, and Hook didn’t prod. 

When he went home that night he found Neal waiting for him, leaning against the door to his apartment, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Are you here to arrest me?” 

Neal rolled his eyes. “I was going to see if I could buy you a beer, but if you’d rather be arrested…” he trailed off, reaching for the handcuffs in his back pocket. 

Hook rolled his eyes in return and shook his head. “I won’t turn down a free drink.” 

“I figured.” 

Hook scowled at him but followed him to his car. 

“I wanted to let you know that we officially closed your brother’s case,” Neal said once they’d been served. “We still have a few of his personal items in evidence, but now that it’s been solved you can have them back,” he added softly. 

It took a lot of courage to meet his eyes, but Hook managed it and nodded slowly. He didn’t know what to say, but he tipped his glass towards Neal in thanks. 

After a few minutes of silence, Neal went on. “So I assume you heard that we won’t be pressing any charges against Peter?” 

Hook took a long drink of his beer and then nodded. “He told me that.” 

“You can press for a civil case if you want.” 

Hook lowered his glass back to the bar and looked away. 

“He did kill Liam after all.” 

Hook shook his head. “No, Neal.” 

“Killian--” 

“No,” he repeated, voice quiet but firm. Despite the pain, he looked up and met Neal’s eyes again, knowing that his friend would be able to see it in his eyes. He beat Neal to his next argument. “I’m not under any illusion that Peter is some misguided, innocent teenager. But he also did what he did to protect himself from a ruthless man who was bent on revenge. And street-savvy or no, he was only fifteen when he…” he trailed off, not quite able to say out loud that Peter had murdered his brother. 

“You don’t think you might be a little bit blind when it comes to Peter?” Neal pressed. 

Hook shook his head and smiled sadly. “It’s not like that Neal. I know what he is, what he can be…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to drag Liam’s death out any longer. Losing him ruined my life…I have to let it go. I _have_ to move on. Can you understand that?” he asked, voice a little desperate now. 

Above all he wanted Neal’s approval. He couldn’t bear the guilt of thinking he hadn’t done everything possible to get justice for his older brother. But Officer Richards was dead now, and despite the fact that Peter had physically given Liam the poison that killed him, it was Richards who was ultimately responsible for his death. 

Neal’s eyes softened slowly and he ran a hand over his face and then nodded. He reached out and squeezed Hook’s shoulder. “I _do_ understand, Killian. And as much as the cop in me hates to admit it, I think Liam would’ve wanted the same for you.” 

Hook felt a weight lift off of his chest and he slumped forward a little, dropping his eyes before they filled with tears. He felt Neal squeeze his shoulder again and took a deep breath before looking up again. 

Neal raised his beer glass towards him. “To Liam.” 

Hook swallowed hard and clinked his glass against Neal’s. “Rest in peace, brother.” 

~*~*~ 

Peter had been in the hospital for close to five weeks when Hook showed up one afternoon to find his room empty. 

The nurses’ station informed him that Peter had been discharged earlier in the morning. However, when he tried to find out where he’d been discharged to, no one seemed to know. By all rights, he was still a minor and without a parent or guardian he should’ve been released into whatever state-run facility had an empty bed for him. But the discharge location on his paperwork simply said “to home.” 

No one seemed to be aware that Peter didn’t have a home. 

Hook wasn’t exactly surprised. Peter had told him over and over again that he wouldn’t go back into the system. Leaving the hospital on his own and against medical advice would’ve sent up red flags, but Peter had found a way to hack the system so that he was discharged properly and no one was any wiser. 

He called David first and asked him to be on the lookout for Peter. He decided to wait to call Neal. Despite their earlier understanding, Hook knew that Neal was still a cop at heart and would be bound to do his job the proper way. 

He doubted it would end up being necessary anyway. Hook had a good idea of where Peter was. 

~*~*~ 

The warehouse was cold and drafty and his footsteps echoed into the darkness as he made his way across the main floor. 

Hook had never been here before, but it had been easy enough to find. It was one of the ones that faced the marina, near the site where Peter had been shot. A quick check with Neal to see which one the police had raided confirmed the specifics. 

“Peter?” he called out, eyes trained on the small, lighted area at the corner of the building. As he walked closer he could see the remnants of where several teenage boys had lived for quite some time. He imagined that Richards had found a way to provide them with heat and running water, but without the amenities and personal touches, it just looked like another abandoned building. 

“Peter, I know you’re here. Where are you?” 

He’d reached the corner of the building which was partially sectioned off. There were a couple small battery-powered lanterns lit, a mattress on the floor with a few blankets piled on top of it, a chair and some books. 

Peter stepped out of the shadows and leaned against a wall. “There’s no need to yell, I’m right here,” he answered in a low voice. 

Hook stopped and looked at him carefully. He hadn’t been worried about where Peter might have gone, but he had been worried about what condition he’d find him in. Despite his lengthy stay in the hospital, he was still recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound and needed to rest and recuperate for a while longer. It wouldn’t exactly be easy for him to do that in a cold, empty warehouse. 

He was relieved to see that Peter appeared to be fine. For now. 

“The hospital said you’d been discharged home. I’m pretty sure they didn’t really know what was meant by that.” 

Peter frowned at him and sat down in the chair. “I told you I wasn’t going back into the system. Did you report me as missing?” 

He shivered a little and Hook frowned. “No. I only mentioned it to David. I told him that I knew where you were though.” 

“Well, here I am.” He spread his arms out and dropped them back to his side. “Home sweet home.” 

Hook said nothing for a while, but stepped closer so he could get a better look at Peter in the dim light. There were dark circles under his eyes and the clothes he was wearing did nothing to hide his shivering. 

“Peter, it’s cold and drafty in here. You can’t…you can’t stay here,” he said softly. 

Peter glared at him and stood up. “I already told you, I won’t go back to any sort of group home,” he hissed, eyes flashing angrily. But the anger that was normally his strength seemed to be costing him too much energy. An unsteady hand shot out to lean against the chair and he had to pause to take a couple of deep breaths. 

When he winced in pain, Hook moved forward and gripped him gently by the shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he murmured. 

“I’m fine,” Peter breathed, already leaning closer to Hook. 

Hook rolled his eyes. “Of course you are,” he answered. Peter dropped his head against Hook’s shoulder and let himself be embraced. “You’re not staying here.” 

“Don’t take me back…” 

“I’m not,” he answered quickly, turning to wrap an arm around Peter’s shoulders and lead him back out of the warehouse. “I’m taking you back to my apartment.” 

Peter stopped for a minute and looked up at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh really?” he asked. Moving more quickly than his injured body would seem to allow, he snaked a hand around Hook’s waist and slipped a couple fingers past the waistband of his jeans to press against warm skin. 

Hook shivered and stopped with him, turning to meet Peter’s eyes again. “Peter…” he warned. 

Peter stepped in closer and slipped both hands to the small of his back as he pressed the length of his body against Hook’s. “How would you like me to pay for my room and board?” he asked in a low voice. 

Hook glared at him, but found himself returning Peter’s embrace, one hand running up his spine to the back of his neck. He’d missed the feeling of the teen’s soft hair beneath his fingers. “That’s not why I made the offer.” 

“So you’re just going to let me live with you for a while out of the goodness of your heart and because I got shot?” Peter asked. He pressed closer still, smirking happily when Hook swallowed hard and let his eyes dart to Peter’s mouth. “I don’t think that’s the only reason, Killian,” he murmured. “But we can pretend that’s why for a while if you’d like.” 

He pulled away and took a step backwards. Hook felt the loss of his touch acutely, and he suddenly found himself regretting the decision to take Peter home. Why he’d thought that bringing the teen to his apartment to recuperate would result in anything less than a renewal of their previous relationship was beyond him. But still…the idea of walking away now and leaving Peter here in the cold…he couldn’t do it. 

Eyes darkening, he took two quick steps closer again, pulled Peter tightly into his arms and crushed their lips together. 

Peter’s skin was cold but his mouth was hot. Hook had almost let himself forget how addicting the teen could be. Almost. Despite his weakened state, Peter responded eagerly, arms wrapping around him, fingers tugging at his hair. There was a twinge of desperation in his kisses that hadn’t been there before. 

This hadn’t been Hook’s intention in coming here, but as always, Peter got under his skin in seconds and he couldn’t resist him. 

Peter pulled him backwards and Hook followed, pushing him up against the nearest wall and kissing him deeply. Peter pulled him close, kissing him back eagerly with tongue and teeth. Hook growled and tugged on his hair, hands closing tightly on Peter’s hips to pull him closer. 

The teen smiled against his lips as he started to undo Hook’s belt. Hook bit down on Peter’s lower lip and pulled back a little to look at him. Peter’s gray eyes were still tired, but they were also bright with lust and a certain sort of happiness that Hook had never seen before. It made something in his chest loosen, and he leaned in to kiss Peter again…softly this time. 

When Peter pulled back he looked at him curiously for a few moments Hook knew he could see the tenderness in his eyes. But being Peter, he could only stand it for so long. So Hook wasn’t surprised when his softer look faded into a smirk as he unbuttoned Hook’s jeans. 

Hook groaned into Peter's mouth as the teen wrapped his fingers around his length. He tugged on his hair and pushed him more firmly against the wall. He slid his other hand beneath the waistband of Peter's pants, smiling when the teen gasped in surprise and then moaned with pleasure. 

There was nothing elegant or precise about it, but neither of them cared. It crossed Hook's mind that were they to be caught, the picture they painted wouldn't be a great one...jerking each other off in an abandoned warehouse. But he couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop. Despite everything he was realizing that he missed the touch of the teen more than he’d care to admit. 

Peter bit down on his lip and when their eyes met he smirked. He seemed to know when Hook was letting himself think too much. 

Their kisses were sloppy as they panted and rocked into each other, hands working one another to a climax. And it didn't take long. Peter dug his nails into Hook's shoulder as he came, moaning into their kiss. Hook was quick to follow, gasping Peter's name and pushing closer against him. They both leaned heavily against the wall and each other for a few minutes after that, catching their breath as their heart rates slowed. 

Eventually, Peter pressed a quick kiss to his lips and pushed him away, reaching for an old t-shirt to clean them off with. Suddenly seeming to be unsteady on his feet again, he sat down heavily on the mattress he’d laid out on the floor. He looked up at Hook steadily, gray eyes revealing nothing. 

“So…still want me to come back to your apartment?” 

There were countless reasons for Hook to say no, and they all made perfect sense. But nothing about their relationship had ever made sense so Hook saw no reason to start behaving admirably now. 

He nodded and reached a hand down to help Peter up. He was surprised when Peter actually took it and let Hook pull him up. Sliding an arm around his waist, he pulled him close again, feeling uncharacteristically tender. 

“You can’t stay here,” Hook murmured against his hair. “It’s freezing…and you’re recovering from massive surgery.” 

Peter’s fingers, which had been running up and down his arm, stilled. “So that’s a yes?” 

Hook knew it was, but it was still difficult to voice. He knew that this would have consequences, and he still didn’t know exactly what it would all mean. Not to mention his conscience was still feeling guilty; Peter was his brother’s murderer after all. 

But…he knew he couldn’t walk away. He sighed. “Yes, Peter.” 

Peter stiffened next to him. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, but Peter turned slowly to face him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” It wasn’t like Peter to give out second chances, so the fact that he was asking told Hook that he knew just what this was costing him. 

Hook laughed and ran his hand over the top of his head, feeling a little hysterical. “I have no clue!” 

Peter’s gray eyes were locked on his, watching him closely. Hook, for all of his nerves, didn’t look away, and he reached out slowly to slip his fingers into Peter’s hand. Slowly, Peter’s expression softened, his eyes going from serious and piercing to something lighter. 

“It’s probably not,” Peter said with a shrug, a glint in his eyes. 

“Probably not what?” 

Peter rolled his eyes. “A good idea!” 

Hook laughed and pulled Peter close again. He slid his hand to the back of his neck and kissed him. 

Peter dropped his head to Hook’s shoulder and yawned, arms settling loosely around his back. “Well, if this is going to happen, can we please leave now? I need to sleep.” 

“Gunshot wound getting the best of you?” Hook asked lightly as he helped Peter gather the few items he seemed to want to take with him. They were mainly books and a few items of clothing. 

“Something like that.” 

On their way out, Peter paused to look back at the darkened old building for a few moments. When he turned around again, he slipped his arm around Hook’s waist and leaned against him as they walked to his car. 

“Anything you’ll miss?” Hook asked as they walked. 

“Nothing I can’t remember,” Peter answered, expression serious for just a few seconds. 

They piled Peter’s few possessions into the backseat of his car and Peter got into the front seat. Hook took a deep breath as he walked slowly around the car. He couldn’t completely silence the voice in his head that was warning him to walk away. For however long this lasted – whatever _this_ was – he doubted that voice would ever go away. 

But he couldn’t dwell on it now. He’d made a choice this time and he’d learn to live with it. 

“You think entirely too much, Killian,” Peter murmured, staring at him intently as he started the car. 

Hook shivered as Peter reached out to slide his fingers over his knee. He turned to face Peter and returned his gaze, eyes doing nothing to hide the turmoil he was feeling. “One of us has to.” 

Peter’s expression melted into a warm grin and he squeezed the back of Hook’s neck. Laughing, he sat back in his seat and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “Let’s go start this bad idea of yours then.” 

Hook couldn’t help but laugh at that. They left the warehouse safely in the rearview mirror; neither of them looked back. 


End file.
